Forget Me Not
by Operatic
Summary: Christine has been married to Raoul for five years, but can't ward off thoughts of Erik. When Raoul leaves on business for three years, Christine has to go to Erik, but, he has blocked out all memory of the tragedy and Christine!
1. Just To See You Again

Forget Me Not

Authors Note: I do not own Phantom of the Opera….wow, my most boring authors note yet.

It had been five years. Five years since the tragedy of the opera house, five years since the wedding between Raoul and Christine Chagny. And in every day of those five years, there was not one that passed when Christine did not think of Erik. She tried to kill her memories of him with those of Raoul, but nothing would work. At first it was only the small things. At a masquerade ball, when a man in a white mask walked by, Christine's heart got heavy. She found herself humming a tune from Don Juan Triumphant and her eyes filled with tears. But five years was a long time to harbor secret struggles, and now everything she saw reminded her in some way of him. It was getting to be unbearable.

Raoul touched Christine's shiny brown curls and smiled sadly at her.  
"I'm so sorry I have to go, Christine. But this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. I know you understand," he said, adoration in his eyes. "Three years isn't really that long, and we'll see each other before then, I promise."  
"I suppose…" Christine said sadly. She tried to remind herself that this was all for the best. If Raoul went on this trip, it would mean a lot more money coming in, not like they needed it. But, if Raoul made more money, then perhaps they could finally begin a family together. She watched him depart, waving to him. She sighed bitterly as she entered their house.

Being married wasn't what she had expected. She ran a hand up the wall as she made her way up the stairs. She stopped half way, her hand on her wedding portrait. She smiled. Raoul had looked so handsome, and Christine had felt beautiful. That was only five years ago, yet it felt like an eternity. Everyone she loved had been there.

Including him.

She just saw his eyes in a crack in the wall. They were sad, one surrounded by a mask, both lined with tears. She had excused herself from the dinner table. She had smiled, thanked him for letting her go, and had gone off to dance. Christine sighed. Back then she hadn't realized how hard it would be to say goodbye to him.

She wandered into the master bedroom. Absent mindedly, she reached into the wardrobe and pulled out her wedding dress. She slipped it on. Looking at herself in the mirror, she turned around and watched her train spin like a white flame.  
"Now presenting, the Victome de Chagny and his bride." She whispered. The last time she had heard those words, tremendous applause had followed. Even La Carlotta, who was invited in (Christine was ashamed to say) pure spite, had to fake a smile and a laugh as Raoul and Christine glided and waltzed across the ball room floor. But, Christine swore, there was also a voice. A lone, male voice. Everyone had looked around, no one sure who it belonged to. But she had known: "Christine, Christine…" The voice could sing no longer, the owner was overcome by sobs. Everyone, even Christine, soon forgot this and went back to eating, dancing, and wishing the couple well.

Christine collapsed on her bed. She grabbed a pillow and held it to her mouth, trying to stop herself from screaming. But nothing could make her feel better at this point. For the first time, she cried for Erik. Not because she was sad for him, but for a more selfish reason: because she never got to really say goodbye. She couldn't say she loved him. Not because she was married, but because she really didn't know. She held the pillow, squeezing it, trying to make herself feel better. She finally cried herself to sleep.

She woke several hours later, still clutching a pillow to her chest. It had been early in the morning when Raoul left, and was now mid day. She stared at the pouring rain through the window. It was going to be a long three years. After the wedding, Raoul had become such a man of his business. Christine couldn't remember the last night of romance they had shared. She stared at the ceiling, white like the colour of her now tear stained dress. It wasn't the type of fairy tale wedding Christine had hoped for. She had thought she'd be a mother by now, but she and Raoul hadn't even discussed the idea yet.

And yet, her thoughts couldn't drift long before they returned to Erik. Even after she escaped his labyrinth, the phantom of the opera house still owned her mind.

She had to see him. She had to say goodbye. Five years was just too long.

"To the Paris Opera House." She told the coachman. He gave her a look.  
"Madame Chagny, surely you of all people remember the tragedy of five years ago?"  
"To the ruins, monsieur." Christine said sharply. The coachman sneered at her and cracked his whip. Christine buried her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. The coachman gave an uncomfortable cough as the cart began to move.  
"Something troubling you, Madame?" he asked. Christine was surprised he gave a damn after her inexcusable rudeness.  
"No, monsieur. I'm just fine, thank you."

The opera house loomed silent and forbidding over the dark streets. Christine walked in, her breath leaving her in a gasp. She knew that it had burned down, but was too busy escaping with Raoul to truly see the damage. It was so bad, Christine was surprised they hadn't rebuilt long ago. But the ruins stayed destroyed and abandoned on a street that was now deserted. The grand staircase, once so majestic, was now nothing but rubble. Christine climbed up it the best she could and began to make her way to her former dressing room.

It wasn't like she remembered it. The room once filled with candles was blackened and burnt. But, to her luck, the mirror was miraculously still there! She ran her hands over it, trying to figure out how Erik had pulled her through with such ease. Her eyes widened as she pulled back the camouflaged door. She walked through it carefully. The hall way seemed less impressive now. Once exciting and mysterious, it now felt dark and gloomy. She shrieked as a rat ran past her foot. She finally got to the stairs.

She froze. Before she could even begin to descend them, Erik's hands were around her neck. She smiled.

"It's been too long!" she cried in joy as she turned around to face him. But she was soon puzzled. Erik didn't look to happy to see her. He frowned and put his noose around her neck. She couldn't say a word, she was too shocked.  
"Who are you, Madame," Erik said, tightening his rope. "To come to my home uninvited and unannounced?" He wore his mask, though Christine noted a long crack under the eye, showing a sliver of his deformed face.  
"Stop, it's me," Christine cried, finally getting out words. She choked as the rope cut into her neck. " Christine Daae, er, Chagny!" Erik tightened his rope.  
"I know not who you speak of," he said, fingering her curls and neck. "And it hurts me so to destroy something of such beauty." Christine flushed.  
"Erik…"  
Erik slowly lifted the rope from her neck. Christine fell to the ground, gasping and choking for breath, her neck bleeding.  
"How do you know my name?" he asked her. He pulled her up roughly. She raised her hand to the level of her eye, preventing him from bringing down his noose once more.  
"How do you know my name?" he asked again, screaming at her now, wide eyed. He shook her roughly.  
"Why do you not remember me?" Christine asked. Erik dropped his ropes and glared at her. Who was this woman, and why did she claim to know him? Although her face, he had to admit, did look familiar, he had no recollection of her whatsoever.  
"You're my angel of music, my tutor, my friend! Why do you act as if you do not know me when deep in your heart you know you do!" she cried out in frustration. Erik stared coldly at her.  
"Madame," he said, letting go of her. "I know not why you insist on lying to me and bothering me. But it will do you good if you forget me and never return to this place."  
And with that, he got onto his raft and sailed to his lair, leaving Christine only to watch.


	2. Horrible Music

**Forget Me Not: Chapter 2**

**Disclaimer: Hello! Thank you all for the kind reviews! I don't own The Phantom of the Opera :( Unless you count the book and DVD……..**

Erik was, to say the least, confused. This woman…what was her name? Daae, or Chagny….both of these sounded familiar….and her first name…Christine! He knew that name, Christine Daae…Christine Chagny, not as well, but it all sounded familiar…

Erik swore he didn't know her. And why should he? No woman had ever tried to make contact with him before. Just by putting his Punjab around her neck was the most physical contact he'd made with a woman in years. But her words kept coming back to him…

_"You're my angel of music, my tutor, my friend! Why do you act as if you do not know me when deep in your heart you know you do!"_

He climbed off the gondola carefully. Still lost in thought, he made his way to his desk. Angel of Music? He was no angel…in fact, he thought himself quite the opposite. The Devil's Boy, he'd been since he was a child at the circus. No one had ever cared for him in any way except for Madeline Giry…

But this woman…she spoke of friendship…that was something that was alien to Erik. His only friend was Madeline. Even her daughter couldn't bear to look at him.

Sitting down, he picked up his quill. He began to sketch the outline of a face…the woman had been beautiful, there was no denying. He tried to think back to her face. Chocolate eyes, mahogany spiral curls, porcelain skin…

He stared at his creation in disbelief. He had seen something like this, not exactly, but something like this, before. And what's more, he swore that he had drawn it.

Christine lay on her bed, crying once more. Why did he not remember her? Her maid came to her, stroking her curls, fixing her tea.

"My dear, it will all be alright," she said, trying to make her feel better. She knew not why she cried, but knew that she had not sobbed like this since Raoul and her had gotten in their biggest fight…but that had been years ago….

_"Christine, I never want you seeing him again!" Raoul had screamed, holding her at arms length. _

_"But Raoul!" Christine had protested, tears staining her cheeks. "I don't love him! You can trust me! I don't even know if he's alive!"_

_"My dear…" Raoul had said, trying to comfort her. "It is not you that I distrust, but him. How am I to be sure that he won't take you as he has in the past?"_

_"Raoul, I need to say goodbye."_

_"Well then you should have said that when we were leaving!" Raoul had chuckled. Christine glared at him._

_"How can you make light of this? Raoul, I broke his heart-"_

_"He had no heart!"_

_Christine had slapped him. Her fury was growing stronger. Raoul rubbed at his cheek. As quick as he could, he grabbed her wrists as tight as he could._

_"Christine," he had said, trying to be calm. "I am your husband and you are my wife. If you have any respect for us at all, you will let me help you make the right decisions. This man will only bring you harm, Christine. Let me guide you from that! Two years ago you were begging for me to free you, and now you're venturing into the same trap. Now I'll ask you to kindly never raise your hand to me again. Do you understand?"_

_"Raoul," Christine breathed in deeply, trying to stay calm herself. "I fear that you are not trying to help me make my decisions so much as making them for me. Are you really banning me from the Opera House?"_

_"Why do you want to go? The place is desolate and destroyed now, the only person left that you desire to see is that murderer!"_

_"Do not call him a that, Raoul! Erik was just confused, he needed to learn!"  
"That does not pardon his sins!"_

_"Perhaps not, but if you will remember, husband, you were quite willing to kill him as he was you. You could have become just as guilty as he if I had not stopped you!"_

_"I do not believe the killing of that monster is a crime, it's more of a tribute to society!"_

_Christine had broken away from him and ran into their bedroom, shutting him out for the next three days._

The maid patted Christine's back as she shuddered at the memory. Never had she seen any two people who loved each other so mad at each other! And who was this 'Erik' that they spoke of? Was he the reason Christine cried today?

Erik sat at his organ, thinking. He began to play. But his mind kept drifting to that damn woman! Why was he thinking of her so? She was just a woman. She merely was confusing him with someone else.

But who else? Erik was a hard man to confuse with someone. Not many of the people from above wore a mask…his hand went to his face immediately. Pulling off his white half mask, he covered his face with his hands. His elbows hit the organ keys, making a horrible sound. His fingers ran over his deformed skin. The Devil Child, indeed! He could be no human. No human was ever shunned to live beneath an opera house purely for the exterior of his face! No, he could not be human. If he were, he would be above the ground like every one else, watching the opera with his wife, or better yet, composing operas!

He pulled a yellowed parchment from his desk. He had written this long ago. If only it could be played for all to hear! He could bring the world to it's knees with this opera, purely because of its dramatic nature. He began to strike the chords, playing his opera. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend he was being cheered for, admired, loved. _Loved._

He stopped playing. Cursing the world, he shoved his music notes off the ledge of the organ. If no one could hear it but himself, was it worth playing? He slowly put on his mask. He felt better this way. Even he was disgusted when he looked upon his face. He would never be loved.

Christine lay awake on her bed. All her tears had been cried, and now it was time for her to think. Somehow, she had to get him to remember her! Suddenly, she shot up, causing her head to throb in pain.

_Madame Giry!_

She got in the carriage as quickly as she could. Erik had adored her, he wouldn't have forgotten her without a cause. And if anyone knew that cause, it would be her! Madame Giry and Meg, she knew, lived in a little house near the opera house ruins. She had to speak with her!

"Oh, Christine!" Madame Giry cried, hugging her tight. "You've finally returned! Meg!" The pale blond girl came dashing to the door. Her eyes widened as she saw her best friend.

"Christine! She cried happily.

"Madame Giry…" Christine asked, unable to mask her smile. "I need to ask you something…about Erik."

Madame Giry was silent.

"Christine, did you, by any chance, go to see him?"

"Yes."

Madame Giry buried her face in her hands.

"Come, come child, get warm. I'll tell you everything."

"It started when you left him, Christine," Madame Giry said, handing her a cup of tea. "He was heart broken, as you can imagine. Twice he attempted suicide, and twice I found him before he could finally end it, thank God." Christine covered her mouth in shock, tears welling up in her eyes.

"My Lord…I can't believe I brought him to it…I can't believe he almost…" she began to sob. Meg patted her back, trying to cheer her up. Madame Giry continued.

"He destroyed everything that reminded him of you, my dear. The drawings, the mannequin, the dresses, even the ring. The only thing he couldn't part with was _Don Juan._ But everything else, gone." Christine still sobbed. Madame Giry patted her hand.

"Little by little, he began to force himself to forget you. He'd beg me to tell him stories just so his mind would be too busy to think of you. He began to forget the little details. The colour of your eyes, the name of your favourite song to sing. He began to convince himself that you were just his imagination…" she paused. Christine was trying her best to stop her tears, but every time she heard something new, she cried a little more. Meg stroked her hair.

"And it worked. But it wasn't enough. Christine, he needed to forget you entirely. He wrote more music than he'd ever written before. Dark, horrible music, not the beautiful, love songs he used to write for you. And eventually, all memory of you was gone. I'm sorry, my dear." Madame Giry stared at her, hoping she was alright.

"So he won't remember me? No matter what?" she asked finally, in a small voice.

"He might, if you really try. But Christine, I have never seen him so happy as he was without you, I'm sorry, love. But without you, he was content. By pushing him to remember, he probably will. But even if he does, he'll go back to being miserable. Without you, he sinks into a scary depression. He needs you." Madame Giry stroked her hand, tears in her small eyes. Christine let out a sigh.

"I need him to remember me. No matter what."

**I know that's an awful place to leave it, but more will come soon! Please review!**


	3. Do I Dream Again

**Forget Me Not: Chapter 3**

**Authors Note: Thank you for all the great reviews! I felt great when I read them :) Le happiness. Oh by the way, Emily, mwahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha right back at cha. Oh, and by the way, Erik fans, I really didn't enjoy having to right that. I adore Erik. He lives in my closet….I think I've said to much. -ahem-On with the story! I don't own POTO. Unless……**

**Warning: Raoul bashing in this chapter!**

* * *

Christine ran to her dressing room.

"ERIK! ERIK!" she shrieked, banging and smashing her fists on the mirror. It finally broke, glass shards scattering the floor. She winced in pain, she tried to ignore the burn that seared up her arm, the blood dripping from her fingers. She ran down the hallway, ignoring every protest, every thought of Raoul in her mind.

"Erik!"

She got on the gondola, feeling it rock dangerously under her weight.

"Please, angel, hear me!"

She was across the lake. How she got across so fast, she didn't know. She had but one thought in her mind.

_Remember me!_

Running in a blind panic, she didn't dare stop to relieve the burning sensation in her chest.

It's then that she saw him.

On the mirror. Head cocked to one side. Eyes open wide. His own Punjab around his neck.

Dead.

Christine screamed. She ran to his body. Pulled it down. She lay him down, cradling his head in her lap. She couldn't cease her screaming, she couldn't calm her unbearable fit of hysterics.

"No, angel, no! Don't leave me, Erik! No!"

With shaking hands, she removed his weapon. Planting a kiss on his broken neck, she cried into his chest. Her head hurt. Her heart stopped beating, if only for a moment. Her angel. Her Erik. Dead.

Dead.

"No…Goddamn it, no!" she screamed out, her voice echoing against the cavern walls. And, as if by magic, she heard Erik's voice.

"Why do you cry so, Christine? Did you hope to commit adultery with the beast? Or did you hope to come here so that your guilt would be relieved?"

Christine stared at the dead man before her, not able to mask her terror.

"Did you hope that Erik would forgive you so that you could truly make your life perfect? Or did you come for a much more personal reason? Did you love me, Christine? Did you love me?"

"Erik,"

"Did you love me?"

Christine was awoken rudely by Meg's rough shake. She felt a wave of relief wash over her, then cried out in misery. Even if it had been only a dream, it was the worst experience of her life.

"Christine, you were screaming in the night…have you a dream?" Meg's childlike eyes were sad, her hand on Christine's arm.

"Oh Meg…he was dead…Erik…" and she began to weep in spite of herself. Her eyes then widened, remembering. Erik had spoken to her…though he had been dead! And she began to sob harder, dismayed by her own stupidity. Meg hugged her, and Christine did nothing to fight it.

Madame Giry entered the room, a tray in her hand. She'd brought her a cup of tea and some bread. And under the plate, a letter.

"It's from Raoul," Madame Giry said simply with a disgusted look on her face.

"How does he know I'm here?"

"It was addressed to me," Madame Giry said, her eyes gleaming with sympathy. She then gave a snort. "It seems he doesn't trust you."

Christine smoothed the letter on her lap and began to read.

_Madame Giry,_

_Fond greetings. As you may know, my business has called me away for a leave. I will be gone an astonishing three years. This will be a long time for Christine to be alone. I do not doubt that she will come to you in pursuit of friendly company, but my concerns revolve around our dear Phantom._

_Christine wishes to see him. But, as I'm sure you can understand, I would prefer if she did not see this man for obvious reasons. If she decides to disobey me and goes to him, I would not be in the least bit surprised if she came to you first. So please, my good lady, if you could help me, it would be so appreciated. If you could do what you can to discourage Christine from meeting this monster, my worries could subside and I could continue dreaming of my return to her. Please, my dear Madame, if you could grant me this one request, you could save me a world of concern._

_Deepest gratitude,_

_The Victome de Chagny_

Christine read the letter once more, unsure of what she was reading. _Disobey me…?_ She was not his pet…she lowered the letter from her face. Meg took it from her and read it, little gasps escaping her as she scanned it with curious eyes.

"Madame Giry…"she asked, hopefully. "You are not actually going to 'discourage me' from seeing Erik, are you?"

"Christine, I would be giving that man too much respect if I 'obeyed' him. I will escort you to see Erik today. But first I suggest you change, my dear. Not that Erik would object."

Christine gasped. She was wearing only her undergarments. Meg giggled at her expression.

"Your dress was all wet from the rain and your tears…you cried a lot last night…" Meg's expression suddenly changed from goofy to solemn. Christine blushed.

"If all goes well today, I won't ever have to cry again."

* * *

"Erik!" Madame Giry called out. It had been but three hours since she had woken up, but the anticipation to see Erik made it feel like a lifetime. Her dream had frightened Christine to her very core, she needed to see Erik alive to be truly at peace.

Of course, there were other reasons for longing to see him, too.

"Madeline?" Erik voice called out from the shadows. Madame Giry held out her hand, signaling for Christine and Meg to stay back. They sat hidden behind a large rock in front of the gondola.

"Erik, I have not seen you for the past few days. How have you been?"

"I have been as well as I always am, which is not very," Christine peered from behind the rock . Erik didn't look well. The unmasked side of his face was almost as pale as his mask, and his gloved hand was pressed to his stomach. Meg pulled her back lest she be seen.

"Madeline, something troubles me." His voice was shaky and he had dark circles under his eyes, as if he'd been up all night, sick

"Only two days ago, a woman came to me. She claimed to know me, but…" he paused, coughing. "..but I know I did not know her. But Madeline…I can't get this woman off my mind! She was so very beautiful, and she claimed to be a friend of mine…" Christine flushed. Meg grinned at her and raised an eyebrow. The two of them stifled a giggle. Erik did not notice, but Madame Giry shot a cold look at the rock. Seeing this, they quieted down. Madame Giry placed a hand on Erik's shoulder. She was about to speak, but Erik went on.  
"I've played out all the situations in my mind, Madeline. She can't have confused me with someone, who wears a mask? She can't have known me, or I would have remembered! I can't have forgotten, I couldn't have forgotten such a beautiful face! And her voice…even her speaking voice was rich, melodic! It was no doubt she was a singer, I could tell just from her speaking voice! And the strangest thing, Madeline? I knew her! I knew her face, her name, Christine Daae! I will not forget her name, Christine Daae!" he at once pulled out his sketch. Madame Giry took it, amazed at it's fine detail. Erik was a spectacular artist.

"Oh, Madeline! If I ever see that woman again, I shall go completely mad! As beautiful as the woman was, Madeline, if I see her again I will go insane! All I have done in the past few days is think of this woman! She haunts me!"

Christine swallowed hard. He really doesn't remember her…she'd held out a tiny hope that perhaps he was only speaking of pain, but all her hopes were ruined. He didn't remember, didn't love her….

Meg held her hand. What would happen if they were found? Christine shuddered at the thought. She had never felt more pain then when the Punjab around her neck was tightened, each time constricting her breath more….

"Oh, I have been up sick, out of love for her!"

_Love!_

"Love, Erik?" Madame Giry asked. "Love out of beauty and voice?"

"She claimed to be my friend…"

"But you do not remember her?"

"Her angel of music…."

"Erik," Madame Giry said. She paused, trying to word her next sentence. "How…how far back do you remember?"

"I remember my lonely childhood just as well as I can recall my lonely adulthood days!"  
"Can you tell me what happened to you five years ago?"

"Nothing! Nothing but lonely nights and lonely days!"

Madame Giry sat down beside him. He breathed in deeply, holding his stomach.

"Does the name 'Opera Ghost' mean anything to you?"

Erik's eyes widened, but he shook his head no.

"Madeline, I remember nothing of the sort," he coughed violently. "I need to get sleep! I have not slept for days, and for the first time in years I am tired! I need to sleep!" and with that, he ran to his bedroom, shutting the door. She heard muffled dry heaves and sobs from behind the oak door. Madame Giry scurried to the rock, ushering Meg and Christine to the gondola. They were almost in the boat when they heard the door behind them opened. Christine stared at Erik, the fear in her eyes apparent.

"It is she!" Erik cried out, pointing at her. "It is she! And Madeline, you brought her to my lair knowing my struggles! How dare you! It is she, Christine Daae!"

He began to make his way to them, but was interrupted rudely by a coughing fit.

"Go, Christine. We will return when he has calmed. Go on, get on the boat." Madame Giry said, trying to guide her. Christine stood still, staring at Erik. He still watched them with a careful eye, though was doubled over, heaving. Christine willed herself to get onto the gondola, but was glued to the spot.

"Come, Christine!" Meg pushed her. Christine began to move towards Erik.

"What are you doing?" Madame Giry hissed. She didn't stop. Erik's eyes followed her. They widened as she placed a hand on his back.

"You need your sleep," she said simply, leading him to his bedroom. He went without a fuss. "I will watch over you until you are well."

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed it! More coming soon.**


	4. Why Do You Care?

**Forget Me Not: Chapter 4**

**Authors Note: Ok, I'm an eager beaver! I just uploaded chapter 3 and already I'm on 4! I don't own POTO (sadness once more) but, if they ever wanted to give up the rights to some random person, I totally volunteer.**

**PS: In the first chapter, I wrote that Raoul had 'adoration' in his eyes. Don't get me wrong, I hate R/C. I just thought I'd clear that up in this chapter. **

* * *

Erik had slept for hours. He would groan, tense up every so often, but aside from that, he slept like an infant. Christine watched over him carefully. He was so different from Raoul, in every way. There was the obvious, in appearance and status. But the little things made them like night and day.

Erik put his life in his passions. He had dedicated his whole life to his music…and was prepared to give it all for her. She closed her eyes, her mouth curving upward in a smile. He loved her entirely…her fingers danced absent mindedly over her wedding ring. But Raoul…his passion was his business. At first she'd thought him different, but in the end, his work was his main priority. When Erik kissed her, it was full of passion, lust...and he managed to transform her feelings of disgust and hatred to excitement and longing. At first, Raoul had kissed her like he wanted her…but once they had left Erik behind, he felt he had won her, had no more need to make her swoon. His passion deteriorated and their romance became shallow. There was no more denying it: Raoul was a selfish man. Many times she had mistaken something in his eyes for love, adoration even, but he was usually thinking about his work, or speaking of his work. She didn't love him.

_She didn't love him?_

Christine's eyes widened in shock. Of course she loved him! And what would she do, even if she didn't love him? She couldn't stay with Erik. People would talk…

And once again, she was thinking of Raoul's wishes! She pulled of her wedding ring and flung it at the wall.

"I don't love him!"

She gasped, rushing to Erik. She prayed he hadn't awoken…Erik's hand twitched and he groaned. His eyes remained closed. Christine sighed in relief. She didn't love Raoul. But did she love Erik?

She looked at him. He still wore the same ivory mask he did five years before. His chest heaved and fell. Carefully, carefully, she removed the mask from his face. A small, pitiful smile crept up her face. The pale skin on the left side of his face was a strange contrast to the reddish flesh on the right. She caressed his face, tracing his deformed skin. Suddenly, his hand shot up and grabbed her wrist. His eyes opened. His blue-green eyes stared up at her, at first angry and hurt. But he soon closed them once more. He sighed out in ecstasy and let go of her wrist. She continued to hold his face, until he noticed the absence of his mask. Sitting up, he breathed in deeply. He was about to speak, but was interrupted by dry heaves.

"Calm down!" Christine cried out, placing her hand on his back. He soon stopped, and stared at her intently. "You're going to have a fit! Please, Erik, try to calm down," she sighed suddenly, and stroked his hair. "It's all going to be alright…"  
"Why did you take my mask?" he asked weakly. "Did you really wish to see this? The face of hell itself?" He tried to suppress tears as he pointed to his face. Christine placed her hand on his face again, stroking it.

"I knew what lay behind your mask, Erik, and know that I am not frightened, nor do I find you ugly!"

"Liar!" Erik cried out. "Get out! If I should need you I will call to you. But do not insist on watching over me like I cannot take care of myself, and do not act as if you are my mother!"

Christine stared at him. Careful to be fast, she kissed the right side of his face. He stared at her, dumb-founded. Without a word she rose and exited his room.

* * *

Erik placed his hand to his cheek, not believing what had just happened.

_She kissed me…_

He trembled in pleasure, He'd never been kissed before…

_Pitiful creature of darkness_

_What kind of life have you known? _

_God give me courage to show you_

_You are not alone!_

The lyrics came to him like a memory…Erik had never thought of a complete aria in less than a moment before…

He stared at the door. Why did he have this effect on her? He fought his own desires, begging himself not to walk outside after her. He sighed, lying back down.

He stared at the ceiling. He wasn't going to be able to sleep until he spoke to her. Stumbling, he turned the door knob and walked outside.

Christine was sitting by the edge of the water, staring out. She got up at once, coming towards Erik.

"Do you need me?" She asked him, touching his arm. Erik felt his pulse rise. She drew back, unsure of what he wanted. He wasn't sure, exactly.

"Why are you staying with me?" he inquired finally. It was an issue that had been pressing him for some time, but had not yet brought it up.

"Because I care about you." She said, as if it was an obvious answer. She smiled at him.

"Why?" he cried out desperately. "Why do you care about me? What could I have possibly done that made you care about me?" He placed both hands on her shoulders, as if he could not hold himself up. Christine stared at him. She held his face in her hands, stroking his cheek.

"You did more than you know, Erik."

* * *

"Please, eat something!" Christine coaxed him. "If you don't eat something, you will continue having uncomfortable dry heaves!"

"If I eat, I will vomit!"

"Vomiting is better than constant dry heaves! At least drink something!"

Christine grabbed one of his goblets and filled it with water from the lake. She placed it in front of him with only one instruction: "Drink!"

"Madame de Chagny, I have not once in my life drank that water and I certainly will not trust it now."

"If you refuse to drink this, what do you drink when you thirst?" she asked, pouring the water back into the grotto.

"I have a wine cellar below here. But I do not go down very often, I rarely thirst!" Erik said defensively. Christine looked at him with pleading eyes.

"Please?" she begged him. Erik sighed. He walked slowly to the desk. Pushing it back, he felt the floor. Pressing down on one of the tiles, it moved back to reveal a stairwell. They began to descend it, Erik leading the way.

The wine cellar was a mess. Barrels filled the tiny room, not leaving any extra space.  
"My apologies, I have not been down here for weeks." Erik confessed, slightly ashamed. Christine walked through the room with some difficulty. The room was dark, the only light came from Erik's torch.

But it was then that it caught her eye. It was small and sparkled as it lay on the ground, as if thrown there. It was covered in dust, but had no less beauty then when she had seen it last.

It was her ring.

So he hadn't gotten rid of it! Christine held back giggles of joy. He hadn't cared so little…he hadn't cared so little of her to get rid of it! But did this mean….

She stared at the man beside her, careful to hide the ring in the palm of her hand. He was searching through the endless supply of barrels, moving them, trying to make things a small bit neater.

Did he still love her? Did he, deep down, still remember her?

Erik coughed violently, his whole body shaking. She slipped the ring into her dress, having no pockets or pouches. She ran to Erik, holding him. His coughing finally ceased, and she realized she was holding him for a different reason. She didn't want to let go. Now that she knew that he still cared for her, perhaps even loved her…

She looked up at him, who was staring at her, wondering why she was hugging him. He wasn't protesting. Christine closed her eyes, pressing her head to his chest. She could hear his heart beating rapidly. He was wearing only a thin shirt, and beads of sweat rolled down his chest. He extinguished the torch and placed his arms around her. She stared into his clear eyes. She suddenly knew the answer to her question.

She loved him.

* * *

**I am so cruel for ending it here! I am sorry…more will come soon, that's a promise I intend to keep.**


	5. Let Me Love You

**Forget Me Not: Chapter 5**

**Authors Note: Thank you to all my loved reviewers, you lahve me! Especially to Tasha and Emily, but I love you all! I'll try to make this chapter a little longer than the rest, I had such a craving to write today! I don't own POTO, although, I'm hoping if I tied up Andrew Lloyd Weber he would give them to me….moo-ha ha ha ha! -cough- Right. Oh, and by the way, AJNemo, yes, this will be EC. I couldn't write a POTO fic without it being an EC…seriously, Erik would kill me. **

**PS: Everybody feels sorry for Erik, right? Well, in this chapter, you'll probably feel worse for Christine. Actually, in this chapter, I'm sorry to say, Erik is kind of a jerk…but who can blame him, really?**

* * *

Erik felt glorious. This woman, she was holding him, of her own free will! She was staying with him, of her own free will! And yet, he fought a battle in his mind. He tried to think clearly, but his own sinful thoughts got in the way. He wanted more than anything to kiss this woman, to make her his, yet deep in his mind…. 

If he lay a hand on this woman, he would hate himself more than he did already.

And yet, she held him! He looked into her eyes, and he could almost feel the happiness that illuminated them! But why? Why was she so happy? No woman would smile so in the warmth of a stranger's arms...they had only known each other for a few days. And she had seen his face…his devil's face. He felt tears fall down his face, and did nothing to stop them.

Christine saw. Her perfect lips curled down into a frown. She brought her fingers up to his face, brushing away his tears.

"Angel, why do you cry?" she asked timidly. Erik was silent. Once again, she called him her angel…but why? She believed him this angel, yet all his life had been crime! Why was he her angel? Why was she so blind to the fact that he was a _murderer!_

"Do not call me that, you silly girl!" Erik snarled, pushing her back. She stared at him, ignoring the searing pain in her back from the odd wine barrel. "I am no angel, and you would be wise not to pity me as you so clearly do!"

* * *

Christine felt hot tears fall down her cheeks. 

"Erik!" she cried, her voice shaking. She took deep breath., trying not to sob in his presence. "I do not pity you! The reason I stay with you, the reason I hold you and care about you, it is because I love you!" Christine spat out her words. Erik gazed upon her, unsure and untrusting.

"I love you…" she repeated, softer. Erik's gentle features turned cold. He grabbed a barrel and began to lug it up the stairs.

"So you say nothing?" she cried out as they made their way up the stairwell. "Erik, I adore you and you say nothing?"

He turned around and faced her. He had tears falling down his cheeks, and his breathing was heavy. He was caught in a fit of dry heaves. Christine did nothing.

"You say nothing?" she asked again. They were at the top of the stairs, and the light peering into the pitch black made her eyes squint. With his free hand, Erik ripped off his mask. Dropping it to the ground, he grabbed her wrist. He began to run it along his face, allowing her to feel every bump, every vein.

"You dare love this? You really love this?" he screamed, holding back hysterics. Christine tried to stay calm, but seeing him cry like this…

"I do." Christine said simply, fearing her words would be engulfed by sobs. Erik growled and dropped her hand. It fell limply to her side.

"No one could ever love the devil's child! No one could look upon the devil's face and not cry out in terror, nonetheless touch it as you have insisted on doing so many times!" he coughed violently, his grip on the barrel weakening dangerously. She held onto it. His grip tightened.

"Don't pretend to love me. You are a married woman, and I am a beast. I do not need your pity and I do not need more misery. Do not lie to me again!" and with one last sneer, he stumbled up the remaining steps, only to find himself face-to-face with Madame Giry.

_Oh, God…_Christine thought, her mind racing. _Did she hear? Does she know? _She turned her attention to Erik. His chest heaved and sweat poured down his forehead. This wouldn't cease his pride though…

"Madeline." He nodded. He walked past her, holding his chest. He placed down the barrel and surrendered to the dry heaves that taunted him. Madeline glanced at him, a worried expression in her eyes. Erik held up his hand, signaling he was alright. She nodded and waited silently. He soon straightened up and composed himself.

"Erik, if it would not be too much trouble, I was hoping to have a few words with Christine?" Madame Giry asked.

"Be my guest." Erik sneered. Giving Christine one last, cold look, he turned his back and sat at his organ.

"Come with me, child. Erik cannot hear this." Madame Giry said, taking her hand and leading her to the gondola. Christine glanced at the man at the organ.

"I'll be back soon, Erik…" she said. She was going to tell him she loved him, but immediately thought better of it.

"Take your time." Was Erik's only response. He wouldn't turn around to see Christine's disappointed face.

They sat together in the carriage, the old woman cradling her adoptive daughter as she did when she was young. Christine held her face in her hands, making inaudible moans as she sobbed. Madame Giry, rubbed her back as they made their way up the cobblestone steps to the Giry residence. Meg jumped up from her chair at once at the sight of her best friend.

They listened in silence as Christine sobbed out the story. Her tears dropped into her untouched tea.

"Oh, I…I have never loved like this…but now it's too late!"

Meg's already big eyes grew larger.

"Love?" she whispered, Christine nodded her head sadly. But she was married! And to the Victome Raoul de Chagny, a man of such status!

"What about Raoul? Don't you love him?" Meg inquired, receiving a sharp look from her mother.

"No…" Christine tried to dry her tears with the handkerchief Madame Giry had supplied for her. "We have drifted apart…" she blew her nose, crying the last of her tears. She'd cried many times in only a few days, and she refused to cry any more. Madame Giry gave her another cup of tea, but knew it would be ignored like the last one.

"Madame Giry, " Christine said finally. "You said that you wished to talk to me…"

* * *

Erik fell to his knees. He'd never coughed like this before. Though he'd never admit a weakness to Christine, he was starving from his lack of food He hadn't eaten in days. Unsteadily, he poured himself a glass of wine. He drank it slowly, preparing himself for the vomit. He began to regurgitate. He had only just finished when he was thrown back by a fit of violent coughs. He covered his mouth with his hands. He felt as if he was going to die… 

"Oh God…" he whispered, his heart beating rapidly. Where was she?

* * *

"My dear, your devotion to Erik is wonderful, " Madame Giry began, sipping her tea. She let out a long sigh. "But if you leave him again, I fear it will kill him this time." 

"At the moment I don't believe he cares whether I stay or go. In fact, I'll bet he would prefer if I left him be," Christine said sadly. "But I never would."

"So you will never return to the surface? Never return to your husband? Your friends? Say what you will, but Erik is a passionate man. Just having you with him is giving him all the happiness in the world." Christine smiled a little. Madame Giry sighed and looked at the clock. Quarter past three. She'd been gone for an hour.

"He will remember you, Christine. I know he will. I can see it in his eyes, he's already getting parts of his memory, but…" she paused again, her eyes closed.

"But…?" Christine pressed. Madame Giry sighed.

"He was angry, Christine. I've never seen him so angry…he swore to himself he didn't love you…"  
"That can't be true!" Christine cried out, getting to her feet. Meg flinched, staring up into her best friends angry eyes. " He has to love me…otherwise, why did he care?"

* * *

Erik made his way to his bed. He needed sleep. If he slept, he couldn't feel the pain…

* * *

"Of course he loves you, my dear. But he is so angry with you, Christine… I just don't know if he could accept the fact that you've returned. And even if he does, you couldn't stay down there forever…what about your husband?" Madame Giry eyed Christine, who was staring at her tea and playing with one of her curls. Meg took her hand and pulled her down. She didn't fuss. 

"If you leave him again, it will kill him."

The words rang in Christine's head, tempting her to cry once more. The memory of her dream, of her dead angel… it couldn't happen. She wouldn't let it happen!

* * *

It was a dream 

Yes, it was a dream, it was of course a dream! For the territory Erik found himself in was not only unfamiliar, but unrealistic. Never before had he been on a stage, never before looked out to see hundreds-no, thousands of people who all had their eyes on them. And yet, when he turned to his left, there was only one person. A woman. She sat with a basket, fingering the contents-blood red roses. But the woman, she wore a mask, a full faced, black mask. His eyes widened as he noticed his own face was naked, no whie porcelain shielding the eyes of the people from his grotesque curse… His hand shot to his face. It was smooth…there was no mask, and no deformity! For the first time, he felt joy, true, spotless joy! Looking around, he suddenly recognized the set- _Don Juan Triumphant_! It was just as he'd imagined it! Then this woman, no doubt, must be Aminta! And he, Don Juan! He smirked a little. He knew just what to do.

_You have come here_

_In pursuit of your deepest urge_

_In pursuit of that wish which till now _

_Has been silent_

_Silent_

_I have brought you_

_That our passions may fuse and merge_

_In your mind you've already succumb to me_

_Dropped all defenses_

_Completely succumb to me_

_Now you are here with me_

_No second thoughts_

_You've decided  
Decided_

He watched as the woman turned her head in his direction. Hey eyes were wide behind the slits of the mask, her mouth open wide. She began to stand, slowly, never taking her eyes off him.

_Past the point of no return!_

_No backward glances!_

_Or games of make-believe are at an end!_

_Past all thought of 'if' or 'when'_

_No use resisting!_

_Abandon thought and let the dream descend!_

_What raging fire shall flood the soul?  
_He lunged toward her, taking her neck in his grasp. She gasped, eyes now closed, standing in front of him. He smirked as he sang into her chocolate brown curls.

_What rich desire unlocks it's door?_

_What sweet seduction lies before us?_

_Past the point of no return_

_The final threshold!_

_What warm unspoken secrets will we learn?_

_Beyond the point of no return_

The woman stared out into the audience, but Erik didn't take his eyes off her for a second. What could be so wonderful in the audience? A man was pouring his heart out for her, and better yet-a normal man! No mask, no scars, no disfigured features! He looked out, his normal eyes squinting in the bright lights. And there, in one of the boxes. A man. Quite a foppish looking man, at that. And yet, he seemed quite distressed at the whole situation…

_You have brought me_

_To that moment when words run dry_

_To that moment when speech disappears into silence_

_Silence_

He was jolted back to reality as Aminta began to sing. Her voice was that of an angels! He was in disbelief. The woman sang his words so passionately, and yet, the voice was so familiar to him…

_I have come here_

_Hardly knowing the reason why_

_In my mind I've already imagined_

_Our bodies entwining_

_Defenseless and silent_

_Now I am here with you_

_No second thoughts _

_I've decided_

_Decided_

The two of them began to climb the spiraling staircases. His heart speed up, his mind raced, his eyes watered. The voice, it was…Christine's!

But he had not once heard Christine de Chagny sing. Why he thought of her, he had no idea. It must have been a…momentary weakness…

_Past the point of no return!_

_No going pack now!_

_Our passion play has now at last begun!_

_Past all thought of right or wrong!_

_One final question_

_How long should we two wait before we're one?_

_When will the blood begin to race?_

_The sleeping bud burst into bloom?_

_When will the flames at last consume us?_

After what had felt like an eternity, they reached the bridge that connected the two staircases. He whipped off his cape, walking slowly and dramatically towards her. This woman wasn't an actress playing Aminta, oh no-this woman was Aminta! In every way, this woman was his character. And this was just how he had imagined _Don Juan Triumphant_-perfect! He had often cast himself as Don Juan. He had been the inspiration, after all…he had no more time to think of his own sorrows. The two of them, Don Juan and Aminta, began to sing together as the song reached it's dramatic climax.

_Past the point of no return!_

_The final threshold!_

_The bridge is crossed_

_So stand and watch it burn!_

_We've past the point of no return!_

The song was over…and yet, it felt incomplete. His hands had traveled up her body and ended on her neck, just as he'd imagined. Why did it feel so empty? He had to make this work. He began to sing to her, the words forming in his head as if they were a distant memory, not his own creation…

_Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime_

_Lead me, save me from my solitude_

_Share each day with me, each night, each morning_

_Anywhere you go, let me go to!_

_Christine, that's all I ask of-_

Christine? Why did he say Christine? This was Aminta, not Christine. Why did he say Christine?

Aminta stared at him. Her mask was gone, and he now saw her face.

It was Christine.

But that made no sense! How could it be Christine?

No time to think of that. The audience was reacting to his masterpiece…but not with the thunderous applause he had dreamt of. No, no, far from it.

They screamed.

"He's a monster!"

"It's the Phantom of the Opera!"

"Kill him!"

He felt his face.

_Oh God…_

All his pride, his joy, melted away as he felt his hand over the all too familiar bumps and veins. He had to leave. He had to escape, and quickly. He looked out, only to see that foppish man calling out Christine's name…

Erik awoke in a cold sweat. Breathing hard, he tried to calm himself before he surrendered to another coughing fit.

_It was all a dream…It's over now, and it's all a dream…_

He carefully got out of bed. Christine hadn't returned. Sitting at the organ bench, he began to write the words he had sung, striking the chords gently. New lines coming to him effortlessly, endlessly.

_Say you love me every waking moment_

_Turn my head with talk of summertime…_

* * *

She began to gather up the food Madame Giry had given her. 

"Remember what I told you, child," she told Christine, embracing her. "And come visit us whenever you want to. I'll be stopping in from time to time. It think it's only a case of the flu, but I would keep your eye on it, it could be deadly…" Christine shuddered. Never would she forget her dead angel, his body cold as ice, his voice, cruel and mocking… it had been nothing but a dream, and yet it chilled her like a harsh reality.

"But it most likely is not. I would fear more for his heart. It can't take much more pain, Christine. He loves you, would die for you, but I fear he may die if you can't stay with him…" Christine didn't want to hear any more about Erik…dead. She couldn't. With a final hug from Meg, she was on her way, hoping Erik was alright. She'd only been gone for an hour and a half, he should be okay…

* * *

He was at his bench. He immediately looked out as she stepped off the boat. She smiled at him, but he turned away. 

"Have you been well?" she asked timidly, tripping on her skirt as she made her way towards him.

"Fine." He said quietly, not wanting to look at Aminta. Christine!

"You're hungry." It wasn't so much a question as it was a statement. She held the chicken and bread under his nose. He stared at it ravenously, but politely declined.

_Fool!_ He thought to himself, ignoring his watering mouth. _You'll likely starve! The woman has offered you food, now take it!_

"Yes, you are. Now eat." She said. She put the food on the table and pointed at it. He sighed, pretending to be reluctant.

_She's quite the bossy thing, is she not?_

He felt an odd combination of pain and pleasure. The food was delicious, but he could feel his stomach churn. He began to cough violently, but he didn't vomit!

"You're keeping it down! You're getting better already. Madame Giry said it was only the flu, after all…"

Erik didn't hear the words, he only heard the voice. Yes, she was Aminta. But how was that possible? He had created the character of Aminta long before he had met Christine…suddenly, an idea popped into his head.

"Christine, do you sing?" he asked her. He began to make his way back to the organ.

"Oh, yes," Christine flushed. "But not for so long…my husband didn't like me singing." Her face fell, her eyes looking out. Should she tell him more?

Erik's felt a stab of pain in his heart.

_Husband…_

"Will you sing for me now?" he asked, realizing it might be a sensitive topic. He sat at the organ and placed his fingers on the keys. Christine's face brightened.

"I would love to…maestro."

* * *

**Well, I wanted to make this longer, and I did, the grand total of words coming to: (dun dun dun DAH!) 3, 284! And eight pages. That's like, a triple chapter! Ooh. Me needs a long break. But I won't take one because I'm nice. More coming soon! (hopefully before Tuesday, I'm leaving for Ottawa on Wednesday and not coming back till Friday. Au revoir! (I'm sorry if I offended anyone with my horrendous spelling of that word) **

**PS: If I screwed up the lyrics to any of the songs, I'm really sorry! **


	6. Memory

**Forget Me Not: Chapter 6**

**Hehe! Another chapter! Now this one and Twas Five Weeks are tied for my longest story-six chapters. I'm so proud of myself! -remembers there are stories with fifty or more chapters- Well, I WAS proud of myself…anyhoo, it's not quantity that matters, but quality. I hope I live up to both! Once again, thank you to all my reviewers, especially arwen1604 (love your stories!). I don't own Phantom of the Opera, Gerard Butler, or Michael Crawford. But I do have one thing that they can never take: my voice! -singing- Angel of Music, Guide and -gag-……ok, maybe not…**

"Sing this chord, Christine." Erik said, placing a finger on one of the keys. It led out a thunderous bang. Christine opened her mouth, and Erik cringed.

"I am aware you have not sang in some time, but surely you have practiced a small amount, have you not?" he asked, watching her. No, no, that would not do. Her posture was all wrong, her mouth not nearly open enough to hit the note, and the note itself was not steady at all. He had hope, though, her voice was quite pretty. She grinned sheepishly.

"Forgive me...Raoul prefers when I don't sing, it brings back memories he would like to forget…" she sighed out, looking directly into his eyes. She opened her mouth and sang the note again, not improving by much. The corner of Erik's mouth curved up. At least she was trying…

"Let's try a bit lower for now…" Erik said, his fingers traveling down the keys. He stuck a note, and she hit it.

"Good…" he told her, hitting a higher note. She was able to sang five notes higher, then her voice cracked. Christine moaned in frustration, her eyes filling with tears.

"I'm sorry…" she whispered, staring at the floor. It wasn't a high note. She sounded awful. "I wanted to sing more…" she sighed. "But I was told it was improper to disagree with your husband." She whispered the last word, regretting every decision she'd made when it came to Raoul. If she had realized who she really loved back then, they wouldn't be in this mess…

"If you enjoy singing, you shouldn't stop for anything." Erik said finally, turning towards him.

"But a woman of such high status must not argue with her husband's word-"

"Is this you speaking, or is it society?" he asked, his eyes wide.

"A woman like me is often in the public eye-"

"The people know nothing, Vicomtesse. The people see only what is on the surface, and the people refuse to accept true beauty," his words had a hint of sarcasm as he placed a hand on his face. Christine gave him a sympathetic look. "Society may be the common vote, but it is rarely the correct one. The people know nothing." He sighed and turned back to the organ. He was about to turn the page of his music when he was taken by a coughing fit. The music lay scattered on the floor.

"Allow me, " Christine told the masked man in front of her. She quickly bent down to retrieve his work. She had almost gotten the last sheet when something small fell out of her dress and bounced across the floor towards Erik's feet. He picked it up and stared at it, recognition in his eyes.

"Where did you get this?" he asked her softly. She gave him an embarrassed look. He growled and stood up. He lunged at her and she fell to the ground.

"Did you steal this from me?" he cried out. She cowered, frightened. Looking up at him, she noticed how shiny his eyes were. Was he crying? No, there were no tears. Only anger.

"Why did you take it? Where did you find it?" he cried out. He stared down at the tiny ring in the palm of his hand. He closed his hand and flung it at the wall. Christine tried to speak, but only succeeded in making a small sound in the back of her throat. Erik stood tall now, glaring furiously at where the ring had fallen. It shone in the light of the candles. She needed to say something, anything…

"I'm sorry…" she tried. He looked at her, almost an amused gleam in his eyes.

"You think now is the time for apologies? My dear, not once has someone apologized to me, and if someone were to say it now, the hurt would not go away. I have been shunned and locked away. Deceived and betrayed! No one can take away the hurt now!"

"I'm sorry for taking your ring." She said again, tears forming in her eyes. Erik smirked. He was…_laughing?_

"I don't care about the bloody ring!" he screamed out. "The ring…it was given to me by…"

_Does he remember?_

"My only love…"

He chuckled again, his pupils dancing with the tears that threatened to fall at any time.

"The woman who denied me…led me to believe that perhaps…perhaps…"

He smirked, and the tears fell.

"That perhaps I too could be loved! That perhaps my miserable life would not be lived alone! That perhaps, through that amazing woman, my sins could be forgiven and I too could be welcomed to heaven! But her heart…was for another…"

He couldn't continue. His words were engulfed by sobs. He stepped away from her, covering his face with his hands. Moments later, his sobs were transformed into coughs. He finally turned towards her, his eyes red and his mouth a straight, hard line.

"That was much more than I ever meant to tell, Vicomtesse. I suggest you leave now, as I can take care of myself without your assistance. My thanks."

Eyes wide, she backed away from him. He remembered! He remembered! A small smile grew on her face, and her tears dried. Erik gave her a look, making it clear she was no longer welcome.

"You remember…" she whispered. He frowned.

"I do not know what your talking about. Please leave." He told her, taking a step towards her.

"I will leave Erik," she whispered, taking a step backwards. "But you must tell me the name of your love."

"That is information I cannot-"

"Her name, Erik."

He hesitated, staring at his feet.

"I do not remember. Now, I believe, Vicomtesse, we had a bargain. Kindly leave."

**Oooh! A bit of a cliff hanger, is it not? More shall come soon (hopefully)**


	7. Raoul

**Forget Me Not: Chapter 7**

Okay, I hate to say this, but after this chapter there may be a short break (I just got a puppy that I have to take care of. So it's kind of worth it) but I'll try to be nice and probably won't make this a cliffhanger. Probably. Thank you to all my reviewers, I love you all!

I don't own Phantom of the Opera.

PS: This chapter: The Return of Raoul! Dun dun dun dun! All thoughts will be in italics.

Coughing violently, Erik reached stumbled to one of his cabinets. He was such a fool! He had multiple tonics for this, why did he not take one to begin with?

_Because you enjoyed the woman's touch, you perverted lunatic?_

He grimaced as he downed the liquid. It tasted awful and burned his tongue.

_As if you don't deserve pain._

He coughed a few times, trying to keep in his mind that it would be over soon.

He'd forced her to go. When he'd been remembering!

_But he did not remember his loves name._

She had to make her way home. The maids would wonder where she was! She had been gone nearly three days. She hadn't told them she'd be gone three hours! She hadn't expected to find Erik. How had he survived the mob? And even if the mob had gone, how had he survived the fire? And what's more, his home didn't seem at all damaged. Even if he'd survived, the mob would not spare his belongings. How was it the mirror was still in her room? It was so odd!

She quickly got in a carriage, handing the driver a random assortment of coins. His eyes lit up greedily, but she made no notice. How was it that he remembered his love leaving him, but no details about her? Did he remember the details? The Angel of Music? The rooftop? Don Juan Triumphant?

And furthermore, why did she leave when he asked her to? Was she afraid of him? Did she respect him too much to disobey him?

And did she still love him? She'd seen his fury before, but this time had absolutely terrified her. Was it because she loved him that she was so frightened?

Raoul. Oh God, Raoul! She was a monster! A horrible, vile temptress! Here she was, once again hurting the two men she cared so deeply about! Her husband! That poor man! She had no idea where he was, what he was doing! Oh, if he knew what she'd done! And, oh! To say that she didn't love her own husband! How perfectly scandalous! She shook her head, in disbelief of her horrible thoughts from only hours ago. Of course she loved Raoul! Raoul was her husband, her safety, her guidance.

_Where is Raoul now?_

Damn him! Damn Erik for once again putting her under his spell! And this time, without even meaning to! Oh, but she was much better than that! She loved Raoul, not Erik! The Phantom of the Opera ruled her mind no longer!

As she walked through the door, her maid nearly dropped the plate she was holding.

"Vicomtess!" she cried. Christine cocked her head in question. "Oh, the Vicomte will be so relieved!" the girls curls bobbed up and down as she ran up the stairs.

"Raoul?" Christine asked quietly. She heard the maid's voice from upstairs, speaking quickly and excitedly. Then she heard Raoul's voice.

_Raoul!_

She quite visibly panicked. Raoul. Home. Now. Here. Of course! She'd been gone for over three days now! They would have contacted Raoul…he would have come home…She held her head in her hands and looked around frantically. She had to leave…he'd know…she smelled like candles and the murky lake, the bottom of her dress was wet and torn…her hair hadn't been brushed for days…

Her eyes widened in fear as she heard the familiar thumping on the staircase.

"Christine, my love," Raoul cried out, a smile on his face. But his nose soon wrinkled. "Why, my dear! Where have you been? You smell…" He stopped and tried to redeem himself. "_Lovely, _but your dress is all wet! Come, dear, you can tell me once we've got you warmed up."

_Erik…_

Without another thought, she bolted out the door.

Erik sighed in relief. Another hour without vomiting. His tonics were effective, but he often found that the tasted so horrible that they made him feel worse than he did before.

_I really must change that somehow…_

Getting up from his chair, he looked around him. Alone, again. The woman had been annoying, but at least she was company. Now he had no one but the shadows on the walls.

_And, of course, my dear friend…_

He stroked the organ, fingering the keys. His music, his companion…how long since he'd played for himself? Days, it felt. Too long. He sat down, playing a familiar tune.

**Poor young maiden!**

**For the thrill on your tongue of stolen sweets!**

**You'll have to pay the bill**

**Tangled in the winding sheets!**

"Christine, what's gotten into you?" Raoul took his wife's hand, leading her back to the house. "Come now, aren't you happy to see me?"

_You love RAOUL._

"Of course, my dear! Please excuse my behavior, I couldn't believe it was really you!" she gushed.

_It sounds fake. It LOOKS fake._

Raoul grinned back. She sighed, relieved. The drama classes Erik had given her on the side had truly paid off.

"Come my dear, I'll get Marie to fix you some tea…why are you all wet?" he asked her, wrinkling his nose.

"Oh, it was merely raining, my dear," She replied, thinking quickly. "If you wouldn't mind horribly, I would rather get some sleep than tea... I will join you later?" she grinned, making her lie seem a bit more real. She kissed his cheek, and he nodded.

"Although, perhaps I will join you later?" he asked with a grin.

"Yes…perhaps…" she said, suddenly feeling quite sick.

There had been no love, no passion, no excitement. Raoul had long since fallen asleep, but Christine lay awake, replaying the moments in her mind. She'd been…_bored_…she felt nothing!

This wasn't meant to be. She climbed out of bed, careful not to disturb the slumbering Victome. She slid on her robe and walked out to the balcony. The stars were bright that night, a full moon…usually this type of night was her favourite, almost magical…but that night she felt nothing but unhappy.

Erik…poor Erik…She'd driven him to forgetting! If it weren't for her damn childhood memories, she would have been able to think clearly, to know who she wanted to spend forever with…him. She sighed, imagining Erik standing before her, the old Erik…saying he loved her…she stopped, remembering that her husband lay in a bed not ten feet away.

Her mind was made up. She had to get out. She was suffocating. She could not breath! She needed to love someone who loved her, she needed to fall asleep feeling happy, she needed to sing without feeling guilty. She needed to get Erik to remember. That was her only option. Otherwise, she would surely die of loneliness! Raoul was a great confidante, a great friend and past playmate. But she felt no love for him! Nothing beyond the bond you would share with your brother. She suddenly felt like vomiting. She was married to her brother! Oh, no. She needed to get out.. Quick. She quickly and soundlessly changed into a dress and through some things into a traveling bag. A few plain dresses, her hairbrush and other necessities. And of course, the picture of her father. She smiled and traced the frame with her finger.

_Papa, please be proud of me…I pray I am making the right choice!_

She was about leave, when she remembered Raoul. What was she to do about him? Her wedding vows still bound her to him…

She sat down at the small desk and pulled out a piece of paper. She had to tell him. He had the right to know that she didn't hate him.

_Dear Raoul,_

_I'm sorry. But I can't do this any longer. Please know, even though I don't love you enough to be your wife, I love you very much as a friend. I will always think of you as my brother, my old playmate. Forgive me._

_Love always,_

_Christine_

She smiled, then dipped the pen in ink once again.

_Your Little Lotte_


	8. No More Silent Tears

**Forget Me Not: Chapter 8**

**Sorry for the wait! It was a combination of puppy training, computer troubles, and (of course) laziness. So yeah. I do not own POTO. I tried to steal Ayesha, but Erik caught me and almost killed me! He heh...that was a gooood day.**

**PS: Please forgive all typos you find in this chapter. I'm writing this on a different computer. Ussually I write on Microsoft Word, which has spell check, but today I must settle with Wordpad, which does NOT -grumbles- Forgive me. **

* * *

Erik examined his new discovery with a careful eye. It was tiny, and yet so extravagent! Much more extravagent than his, he noticed with a small smirk. It was covered in diamonds, some bigger than one of his fingernails! Swarvoski, he guessed, or another well known name. The gold band was sparkly and expensive looking, making the whole package beautiful, yet awfully gaudy. It didn't appeal to him at all personaly, If he were to give one to a woman (which he was quite certain he would never have the chance to do so) it would be much more simple.

So whos was this It certainly wasn't his, he would have remembered purchasins something so horribly...big.

Christine! It must have been her wedding ring! But what was it doing here? He thought hard. Why would she take it off? He found it near the wall. But she wouldn't have...

He sat down on the bed and threw the ring at the wall with force. It landed quite close to where he had found it. _So she threw it..._ he thought. But why would she throw her wedding ring? Was she not happy in her marriage?

_"I love you!"_

No. No way, not possible. She could not love him. She'd just met him! And besides, even if se did love him, he could not love her back. He loved another, forever.

But why couldnt he move on? She broke his heart! If he felt anything for her he should hate her! Yes! He hated her! He hated...

Christine.

* * *

Christine stood outside the mansion, not sure where to go. To the Giry's? No, it was much to late to be bothering them. To the opera house? Erik had not forbidden her from returning. Would he allow her to stay? It would not be for long, only till morning. Then she would go to the Giry's and figure out where to go from there. There was no chance of him being asleep. Ad she really should check on him, make sure his condition had't worsened...

She felt desperation strike her as rain began to pour. There would be no carriages circulating this time of night. The chauffer ha long since retied to his quarters. It would be much too difficult to try to juggle her suitcase and the reigns of a horse at the same time. The opera house as not in walking distance, it would take hours in the pouring rain. And besdes Erik's house would be the first place Raoul would look.

She was dreading the morning. In the morning, Raoul would awaken from a peaceful dream ad find his wife gone. She felt terrible, horrible guilt wash over her as she stared up at her bedroom window. She needed to leave now, or she'd never be able to go.

She left her suitcase on the porch and took out only one thing- her fathers photograph. She just couldn't bring herself to part with it. She stuffed it into the bodice of her cotton nightgown and mounted her horse. Kicking his sides, she rode into the night. It wouldn't be a long ride...

* * *

_A young child cries desperately as she lights a candle._

_"Papa...you swore to me you'd send me the angel of music when you died! Well, you're dead now, papa, and I am lonely beyond belief! Please, send him soon papa, I miss you terribly, and I cannot take an empty promise!"_

_A child crying to her deseased father. A child to share his loneliness. A child to draw him out of his darkness? Erik looks on as he feels a tiny spark of hope for the first time in his sorry life. He isn't sure why he speaks, all he knows is that he must comfort the child._

_"I am your angel of music! Sing for me, my child, I wish to hear your voice!"_

_The child's eyes widen, but she does not hesitate to sing the song her father taught her._

_"Angel of Music_

_Guide and Gaurdian!_

_Grant to me your glory!_

_Angel of Music_

_Hide no longer!_

_Come to me strange angel!"_

_Erik can help but sigh as he hears the child's angelic voice She stops all too soon, grinning childishly and staring at her feet._

_"My dear, what is your name?"_

_"Christine Daae, angel." she mutters._

_"Ah yes, Christine, if you will allow me, I will teach you to become a great prima donna!"_

_"Better than La Carlotta?" the girl asks, her head raising, eyes wide in amazement. Erik grins to himself, recalling the shrill toad whose voice he had to endure at every opera._

_"Much better than La Carlotta. Much better than anyone here."_

_Christine is now overly excited, for the small girl is now on her feet, jumping up and down and talking about operas and music and how jealous the others will be!_

_"Oh, and wait until Meg hears I have my very own angel! She'll be so j-"_

_"One request, my child," Erik cuts in. Christine sits down immediately and folds her hands neatly in her lap. A blus creeps up her face as she stares at them intently. "You must tell no one about me, alright? This will be our secret. Can you keep a secret?"_

_"Yes."_

He felt memories flood his mind. A lonely child. A gala night. A rich boy. A roof top. A Masquerade ball. A cemetary in winter. Denial after heart breaking denial, promise after empty promise. And Christine Daae, the cause of his suffering. He hated her! He ran out in a blind rage and threw her ring into the lake, gritting his teeth at the horrible -plop- sound of the water. She tore his heart from his chest...his very chest! And what did he do? He pined for her, likwe a love sick dog! He threw the other ring into the lake, this time letting out a cry of rage. He was nothing more than a pawn in her perfect little life, helping her achieve her perfect little dreams...and for what cause? What thanks did he recieve? Betrayal and solitude! She wasn't worth his time, his misery, his effort!

He ran to the organ and grabbed the song he'd been working on, _All I Ask Of You_...how dumb was he! He had thought it was his own creation, when in reality it was only their love song! He threw sheet after sheet into the burning fire, watching with glee as the sheets curled and blackened as they burned.

"NO MORE MEMORIES! NO MORE SILENT TEARS!" He screamed. Horrible Christine had destroyed poor Erik!

And yet, the fact was that he WASN'T poor, innocent Erik. He wasn't in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was a murderer. He was a horrible person...

No! He refused to let himself feel self loathing now. For once, for just this once, he had to see himself as the better person. Just this once.

* * *

Down, down ever further to the catacombs of the opera house. Would he be happy to see her? Would he apologize for lashing out at her? No, of course not, he was much too arrogant. He would most likely allow her to stay, but not speak to her the entire evening...Finally she was at the edge of the lake.

"Erik!" she called.

No response!

"Erik! she called again, louder. Again, nothing. She repeated his name over and over again. Finally, another voice was heard in the darkness.

"Why have you returned?" the voice was shaky and came from behind her. She quickly turned around, only to be greeted by darkness.

"I...I only need a place to stay for the rest of tonight." she replied rather meekly, looking all around her.

"And do you really believe you will recieve it?" the voice came from aboe her. She looked p expectantly. Nothing.

"After all the pain you've caused me?" It came from below her. She quickly gt to her feet and pounded on the groun with her small fists. Pain? Had she really hurt his feelings that much by taking his ring?

"_Say you'll share with me _

_One love, one lifetime!_

_Say the word and I will follow you!"_

The voice was cruel and mocking and seemed to come at her from every angle. He eyes widened, from fear and disbelief.

"You remember..." and her world went black.

Erik stepped off the gondola calmly. He'd heard her screaming from the other side of the lake. Now for his choice...did he leave her? Did he kill her?

She was beautiful as she lay, her hair going every which way, eyes closed, mouth twisted in a frown.

He couldn't kill her. Gingerly, he picked her up. He lay her down on the bed. Placing her head on a pillow, he took multiple sheets and pillows and lifted her legs. She'd wake soon. And he'd be all too prepared for her when she did.

* * *

**-For those who have not read the Leroux book, Erik is a vantriloquist. **

**-On back, head supported, legs upthe recovery position for fainting. I was in St John Ambulence -smiles-**

**If I got any lyrics wrong, I'm sorry!**

**PS: Yay! Arwen1604, can't wait for the next story! I was so happy when I read that today!**

**-Son Kat**


	9. Lied Because I Loved

**Forget Me Not: Chapter 9**

**Sorry for the wait! Once again laziness mixed with Harry Potter and other stories (Chapter 3 of Betrayal up! Okay, okay, that was a shamless plug. I'm sorry.) I do not own POTO, but I'm thinking I'll punjab Erik and give him a taste of his own medicine! Moohahahaha! -choke-**

**Oh, and I'm spellcheck-less. Excuse me.**

**By the way, be prepared for a VERY angsty chapter. EC lovers beware. Boohahahaha! (Never thought I'D be saying that. I adore EC. Hm.)**

_Keep your eyes shut. He won't waste his breath on someone who's fainted. Keep your eyes SHUT._

She could hear Erik's soft breathing. Every so often, she would hear a page turning. She heard him mumble something under his breath, something about paper cuts. But she didn't dare look. Not after that...Only once had she sen him that angry with her, and it was something she'd hoped never to experience again...

_"Curse you!_

_You lying little Dalilah!_

_You little viper!_

_Now you cannot ever be free!"_

She shivered at the memory, and inwardly cursed herself.

"Are you cold, Christine?" came Erik's beautiful, yet cruel voice. "I know you are awake, there's no need to pretend."

Slowly, she let her eyes flutter open. What had she done? She saw Erik's form, now standing, lifting the veil from around the bed. Quickly, she stood up. She bolted for the exit, but was cornered by a smirking Erik.

"Why are you here, de Chagny?" he demanded, sneering. Christine shuddered, but held her ground.

"You remember." she said plainly, not bothering to answer his question.

"Yes, I do. Imagine that," Christine tried to leave, but Erik had her surrounded. "Funny, you try to make me remember. Now I do, and I hate you," Erik had to, once again, hold her against the wall. "Things didn't turn out as they planned, did they?"

Something inside Christine snapped. This wasn't the man she loved. She didn't love him. She never did!

"You monster!" she screamed. Gathering all her strength, she pushed Erik off of her. She wached in satisfaction as he stumbled backwards onto the bed. "You made me care for you. You made me nurse you back to health. You tricked me into loving you, and look where it got us! I bet you never even forgot, you sick beast! You were probably only leading me on!" And suddenly, a cruel truth dawned on her. "I hate you."

She regretted the words the moment they came out of her mouth. Erik's already angry face seemed to crumple, then grow even angrier. She bolted out of the room, racing to the gondola. She was almost done untying it when Erik grabbed her. He shoved his bony ingers into the thin skin on her sholders, causing her to cry out in pain. She expected him to scream, to throw her to the ground, to do _anything. _Except what he did.

_"The tears I might have shed for your dark fate_

_Grow cold and turn to tears of hate!"_

"I will not cry for any fate of yours, Monsieur Erik. Now please, if you despise me as much as you do, why do you want to keep me?"

And it was then that it happened.

He shook his head, as if he were trying to shake something from his jet black hair. And then, very quickly, he forced his lips on hers.

And what surprised her more was that she found herself returning the kiss.

But this-this was nothing like what they had shared before! The former kiss had been made up of so many different things-love, pity, anger, lust, greif, jelousy...but this was nothing like their first kiss. This kiss was fueled by-and consisted of- hate. Christine's eyes narrowed as she realized just what was happening. She jerked away from him, anger etched in every one of her features.

"Why do you taunt me like this?" she demanded. Erik stared at her, his green eyes glowing. "When I think I love you, you lash out on me. When I think I hate you, you kiss me! And it makes no sense!"

Erik took a step forward, so that their faces were mere centimetres apart.

"Christine, when I think you love me, you scream at me. When I think you hate me, you kiss me. Think about it," Christines eyes widened. "You give me false hope, you snatch it away and give it to the Viscount. You love my music, you hate me. You say I taunt you, when I live to please you! But in the end, it is you who can't make up your mind! I love you, Erik, I hate you!" he grabbed the back of her neck, forcing her face closer. "So I'm making it for you. You'll stay with me. Like you were supposed to." And he kissed her again. Christine did not return the kiss, however.

"I am married, Erik. I'm not yours to take," she said as soon as he'd had his fill. Erik shook his head.

"How is life with the Viscount, Christine? Everything you dreamed it would be?" Christine felt her cheeks flush.

"That is no business of yours."

"Then why do you want to go back?"

"Why do you wish to keep me here? Do you not hate me? Or was that a lie as well?"

Erik stared at her.

"Angel," she added, a small frown on her lips. Erik moved away from her. He walked up the stairs to the organ, where he traced the keys.

"Do not avoid the question, my angel."

He turned around to face her, his expression completely unreadable.

"I lied to you then because I loved you. But I do not lie to you now. I do, however," he turned away from her. "Love you."

Christine shook her head. She must have been hearing things. Erik turned to his left, allowing Christine to see his unmasked cheek. It was slightly flushed. She shook her head again and finished untying the gondola. She got in carefully, her back turned to Erik.

"You need to make up your mind before anything can happen between us. And so do I."


	10. Fairy Tales and Happy Endings

**Forget Me Not: Chapter 10!**

**Wow. I cannot believe this I is on the tenth chapter. I know it's not really that amazing, but I've never really written a story past…well, nine chapters. Go me. To commemorate this momentous occasion (okay, okay, it's not all THAT momentous), I am giving you some teasers about where the story is going. **

**There will be three main events:**

**The first event will make fangirls go "SQUEEEE! ERIC IS SOOOO HAWT!"**

**The second event will make fangirls go "OMG HOORAY! ERIC IS SOOOOO HAWT!**

**The third event will make fangirls go "OMG HOW CULD U DO THAT? ERIC IS SOOOOOOOOOOO HAWT!"**

**I really hope you didn't guess it from those clues.**

**I don't own Phantom of the Opera. But I'm hoping with the profits of my business, "Gerard Butler pictures for Fangirls" I'll be able to buy it. I'm hoping. **

**PS: I'm extremely sorry for the wait! I hope it's worth it. Of course, before event #1 can happen, Erik and Christine really must sort out their feelings for each other, basically the goings-on of this chapter…I think I've said too much. Eep!**

**PS AGAIN: I have spell check again. Rejoice with me -does happy dance-**

_"You made me care for you. You made me nurse you back to health. You tricked me into loving you, and look where it got us! I bet you never even forgot, you sick beast! You were probably only leading me on! I hate you!"_

_"The tears I might have shed for your dark fate_

_Grow cold and turn to tears of hate!"_

_"I will not cry for any fate of yours, Monsieur Erik. Now please, if you despise me as much as you do, why do you want to keep me?"_

_"I lied to you then because I loved you. But I do not lie to you now. I do, however, love you."_

Thinking back on recent events, it felt more like an out of body experience for Erik. Like he wasn't really speaking the words, like he was watching some masked fool paint himself into a corner. And yet, as he really thought back, he remembered what it was like. Like he couldn't think, didn't desire to think, only wanted words to come out. And, indeed, words HAD come out, words that he now deeply regretted. He could have laughed at the sheer irony of it all, had he not been so disgusted with himself.

He had never been able to be very bold towards Christine. The fear of rejection, the unending fear of being shunned by the only woman he loved. The very thought of Christine shrieking, spitting in his face as he tried to kiss her, the very _thought _kept him up at night; it was a problem that only music seemed to fix. However, something had happened to Erik, and he in no way could explain it. He had…_kissed her_! Once, only once, had he and Christine shared a kiss, and it had been her who had initiated it. And yet, today, he had kissed her, told her he loved her…

And of course he did. There was no way of getting past it. Of course he did. He had since the day he had met her, and would till the day he died. It would be his death if she could not accept him. And yet, only days ago, she had spoken those words, the words he had longed to hear but refused to believe. He replayed that day in his mind, and was shocked at his actions. A woman, a woman he had just met had intruded on his home; he'd let her. She'd removed his mask; he'd let her. She held him; he'd let her, and held her in return! He had replayed their embrace over and over again in his mind. The feel of her skin, the smell of her hair…the sound of the words…

_"I love you…"_

…and the look on her face as he shoved her away, shouting cruel words towards her, denying her her angel. A monster keeping an angel captive, yet denying all sign of affection. It sounded more like the premise of a fairy tale, not a situation in real life. Although, fairy tales often held a life moral wrapped up with the princesses, enchanted castles, and happy endings.

And how Erik prayed for his happy ending.

So she had claimed to love him. And he had horribly denied her. So what had happened? What had made Christine administer the cruel words she had today?

_You, _Erik thought bitterly. _You shoved her away, you broke her heart, and now she claims to…_

Erik's eyes widened as a thought dawned on him. He had loved her. Christine had denied his love (although she had favoured the love of another.) He had become cruel. But yet, he still loved her! She left anyway, however, leaving him alone. She returned five years later, and he had became cruel. Then he told her he loved her. And she left once again, and he had not stopped her, and now he was alone. Once again!

A pattern became very apparent to Erik and his eyes widened even more. And Christine…Christine had done nearly the exact same thing! Was this her way of PUNISHING him? He felt anger, he felt, pain, he felt…shame. Of course, he had confused her! He probably had confused her to no end, with his mixture of cruel actions and loving caresses. No wonder she was frightened. No wonder she went to another man…for protection…from him…

Erik sank to his knees, the cruel paradox pounding in his mind, seemingly chanting the same words over and over again. He could have prevented it. It was his fault! He stared out at the lake, almost wishing Christine would return. He would do anything now to have her back…he would kiss away her tears, he would give her all he had…Damn it, he would grovel at her feet if he had to!

_Anything _to hold her again.

Staring at the mirror, Christine suddenly felt an overpowering sense of alone. The opera house she had once known had long since been discarded like a piece of trash, leaving the giant building quite deserted.

Except, of course, for one.

No! She would not go back there! If she went back, Erik would know that she, of course, didn't hate him! He would know how very helpless she felt without him, he would know how she had left her husband for him…

Oh God. Raoul. What time was it? Raoul was an early-riser, always rushing off to his job…the man loved his job, more than he loved his Little Lotte, it seemed. And it seemed that his Little Lotte loved her angel of music more than her childhood friend. Loved her masked mystery more than her safety, her teacher more than her husband. She couldn't help but chuckle. That sounded rather perverse, did it not? And her teacher adored her…

So why couldn't they just get over themselves and love each other? She sat alone in her now dark dressing room, like she used to when waiting patiently for her tutor. There were so many reasons…

Raoul. He'd be looking for her. And chances were good that he knew just where to look.

_But he doesn't know where to find Erik._

The thought brought a small smile to her face. It was lucky that she had remembered how to get to Erik, Raoul did not even take the same route! And besides, who was to say he wouldn't, once again, become prey to one of Erik's traps? The thought of Raoul floating, dead, above the water. Shivering, she knew she couldn't let it happen to him…

And it wasn't as though Raoul was the only problem! She knew she loved him, but had no idea what Erik felt for her. The last words he'd spoken to her were, indeed 'I love you'…but did he really? She honestly wouldn't put it past him to trick her, lull her into a false sense of security, then snatch his love away…as she did to him so many years ago.

It hurt, really…why was she such a fool? She'd known she'd loved him, even before the night she met the real him. There was the night when… she smiled warmly, remembering…

_I was only around thirteen years old, yet still considered child-like by the oh-so mature other thirteen year olds. But I had been coddled by my father and, more recently, by my angel, so it was no real surprise. _

_It was before my angel and I had made any real progress on my voice. We chorus girls had a part in the current opera, I can't remember what it was any more. We dancers had a singing part, however, which made Erik pleased. _

_We were rehearsing our song. M. Reyer had given us the signal to stop, but I did not hear him. I continued singing until I noticed that no one else was singing with me._

_"That's enough for today, erm, you are dismissed," M. Reyer had said, mopping sweat from his brow. "and an excellent, unexpected solo from Mlle. Daae!" he had added kindly. The old man was sweet, obviously trying to make light of my mortifying situation. Unfortunately, all he did was draw attention to my horrible technique, and bring on the other girls' catty behaviour._

_They made awful jokes at my expense. I tried to ignore them, but there was a girl, Marie…there was no ignoring her. And I will never, EVER forget what she said to the other girls…_

_"Little Daae still believes in the 'angel of music'…can you believe that? I heard her saying it to the other one, Giry…Madame's daughter? It's too bad her little angel couldn't help her…she sounds like some type of strange parrot!"_

_And her friends had sniggered, especially when Marie began to mock my voice. I had run to the chapel, as I always did when I was upset, and began to cry. At the sound of my tears, however, the voice I knew so well rang out, gentle and loving._

_"My dear Christine, what is the cause of your tears?"_

_And I told him everything, how I had embarrassed myself during rehearsals, and how Marie had mocked his existence. And Erik, he had been so patient and gentle, even though I was crying quite hard and most words came out blubbery, most sentences half formed._

_"My sweet child," he had said once I'd finished. "Do you believe that you sound like a parrot?"_

_And I had paused, then cried, "The other girls think so!"_

_"Pay no attention to what the other girls think, it seems that they rely on each other to mock sweet girls as yourself. My dear, you in no way sound like a parrot, you sound like the angel that you are."_

_"But it is you who are the angel, is it not?"_

_And he had paused, as though not wanting to answer. Finally, he replied, "Yes Christine, I am your angel. As for Marie, I do not think she should be so confident in her own skills. She may find that next time she goes to sing, she will not be at all fortunate…"_

_And I had giggled, as I knew Marie sounded somewhat like a frog herself. It was to be expected, I suppose, as she was Carlotta's second cousin. _

_The next day, we were rehearsing again. In our song, it happened that Marie was given a small solo role. She began to sing, and we all began to snigger: Marie's voice was that of a mule, making strange noises as she tried to sing properly. She looked around, trying to find the source of this interruption, trying to prove that it wasn't actually her singing. No one was quite convinced, especially not Meg and I. We later heard her talking to her so-called friend, blaming her mule voice, of course, on the phantom of the opera. _

Christine replayed that day in her mind, smiling fondly as she remembered Erik's kind words. When she had gone to bed that night, after her lesson, she had found a red rose on her pillow, with a black silk ribbon tied neatly around the stem.

She stared at the mirror again, almost wishing that he would appear, or she'd hear his voice, or she'd find a red rose on her blackened desk; something, _anything _would be nice…

He was so close. It felt like she could reach right into the mirror and touch him…she'd tell him she loved him, was a fool to ever leave his side, that she wanted to stay with him for the rest of her life. She'd tell him, she loved him. Because of course she did!

She banished all thoughts of Marie and all thoughts of Raoul from her mind, and focused entirely on Erik. She had to go back. Even though she had been gone for a mere fifteen minutes, it felt like a lifetime. Even though her mind screamed at her to run home, get into bed, and act like she'd never left, her feet were already taking her to her Erik, returning her to the man she truly loved.

_My Erik…_

Christine's Erik continued to stare out at the lake, hating himself, yet knowing that he needed her. The gondola was tied up at the other side of the lake, preventing him from getting anywhere quickly. Of course, he could swim, but it would take much too long to get across the ice cold lake and into Christine's arms. And besides, he didn't even know where she was! She could be back at home, telling her _beloved _of the horrible monster whom she just DESPISED! And she would never return, and Erik would rot in the cellar of a discarded opera house. What a suiting end! He could even see himself now: alone and sad, with no living company but the spiders and the rats.

_Madame Giry…_

Oh, yes! Perhaps Madame Giry could talk to her! Tell her how a deformed madman adored her, was obsessed with her! Perhaps she could ask her to leave her safety, her rich, handsome husband, and live with the man she hated in a damn BASEMENT! He almost chuckled at the thought of himself and Madame Giry dragging Christine down, his angel clinging to her husband in a most comical manner. It wasn't funny, of course, but the look on his face…!

That's when he heard it: Small splashes, as though someone were punting the gondola across the water. Who could it be? He couldn't understand who would be coming down to his home at this hour. He couldn't understand who would be coming down to his home, period. He watched, waiting for some sign of who it might be. Finally, he saw the tip of the gondola, followed by a very tired Christine.

Erik merely stared at the image before him, not believing. It was an illusion, a cruel prank played on him. It wasn't real, was it…? Christine stopped once she reached the bank, and stopped to catch her breath, as she wasn't used to punting a fifty pound boat across a giant lake. Soon, she looked up and saw him.

"You came back…" he said, in barely above a whisper.

And before he could do anything else, Christine had run to him and embraced him, never, ever, wanting to let go.

**Ooh! I liked writing this chapter. Just so you know, next chapter there will be a lot of fluff (or is it phluff?) so, yeah. Happiness. We really do need to give our dear couple a bit of fluff, they haven't had very much so far. And besides, we really do need that event #1 to happen, don't we?**

…

**I think I've said too much. **

**Till next time!**


	11. Couldn't Tell Him

**Forget Me Not: Chapter 11**

**As I said, this chapter will be fluffy (phluffy?) so if you hate that sort of thing, I suggest you skip this. However, you will be skipping one of the three events (mwaha) However, I doubt anyone doesn't like a little fluff now and then. I mean, they're so cute and stuff! Don't worry, afterwards the story will return to it's usual angsty, over dramatic, badly written self. Yay!**

**I do not own POTO. I also am unable to think of a funny disclaimer, so DEAL!**

**PS: There may be some things in this chapter that are deserving of the T rating…so if you don't want to read that, skip over this chapter. Don't worry, it's not that bad.**

All Erik could see was brown. Brown curls that tickled his nose and clouded his vision. All he could hear was murmurs, Christine's sweet, muffled murmurs… He wondered what exactly she was saying, as it was quite impossible to tell through her tears and Erik's increasingly damp vest. And all he could think about was how very lucky he was, how much he did not deserve her and yet, here she was.

His angel.

He had not yet the courage to say anything more to her, he only held her and listened to her, and praised the God that had neglected to love him until this very moment. Truth be told, he didn't even believe there was a God, but this…this proved that there was someone watching over him. There had to be.

Christine finally managed to look up at him, tears still in her eyes.

"I'm sorry…" she managed to whisper. He stared down into her beautiful face, her lovely porcelain skin darkened by a flush of scarlet, lone tears still creating paths. Her brown doe eyes sparkled, though he was not sure whether it was unshed tears that made them glitter so, or-dare he say it?- happiness. Her rosy lips, curled up in a smile…lips that had once kissed him so eagerly…

No.

She was a married woman, and he would NOT take advantage of her. She was, of course, "not his to take"…and yet he so longed….

No.

He had to stop. He really did!

"For what, my dear?" He managed, trying to somehow conceal the small blush that was now creeping up his own face.

"I left you…and for the horrible words…" she sighed and buried her head into his chest again, though his vest was already soaked with her tears. He stood there, for once utterly speechless.

"It's alright…" he finally coaxed, feeling an urge to stroke her mahogany curls, but resisting.

"Erik…you do know I don't hate you…right?" she sobbed, making Erik's spine tingle by moving her hands on his back.

"I know…" he sighed. _Calm, Erik…_

"And you do not hate me?"

"Of course not!" Erik cried, finding his words came easier than they did before. And yet, as he remembered his words, he felt an alarming sting of guilt. He'd always considered it a useless emotion, guilt…it was foolish of him… "Forgive me…" he sighed.

"Of course…" she sobbed. She finally looked up and faced him. Gingerly, she traced the crack under his eye with her thumb. "How did you…?"

"Oh…" Erik placed his hand to the crack, closing his eyes. "Madame Giry…wasn't exactly gentle when she forced me off the mirror…"

"Forced you …?" Christine's eyes narrowed, then widened as the sick truth hit her.

_"Twice he attempted suicide, and twice I found him before he could finally end it"_

"Oh God!" she cried, covering her wide open mouth with her hand, then flinging her arms around him again, almost protectively. "Never…never…"

Erik's hand buried itself in her hair, almost against his will. Christine only held him closer.

"Never do anything like that again…"

"I won't…"

She looked up at him.

"You have to promise,"

He took one of her hands.

"I do."

Those two words were enough to make them both uncomfortable. _I do. _She WAS married. Erik broke away, feeling utterly foolish. Christine stared at the ground.

"You should be getting back to your husband," Erik said finally. _Fool! How can you be asking her to go when you desperately need her to stay?_ He thought, clenching his fists to prevent a string of obscenities aimed at himself to spill from his mouth. Christine, however, merely shook her head.

"Erik, I've left Raoul," she told him, a cross between a smile and a frown on her white face. Erik's fists unclenched, his knuckles rapidly regaining their normal colour.

"You…did…" he said, for once at a loss for words. Christine stared at the ground, the strange look still on her face.

"I tried to tell you,"

Erik cleared his throat as an awkward silence took over.

"May I ask why?" he said finally, noticing as Christine shifted uncomfortably, transforming the strange half smile into a frown.

"I…" she sighed, meeting his strange emerald eyes with her own chocolate ones. "I didn't love him,"

The silence took over once again. Christine was not sure she wanted to elaborate, and Erik was not sure he really wanted to know.

"It's complicated," she said finally. Erik nodded, still saying nothing. Christine sighed. "It's…It's hard, you know? It's really hard…"

"What is?" Erik asked, looking up and onto her face. She looked, he noticed, weary- like she hadn't slept at all that night, which she most likely had not.

"Saying good bye… I couldn't even tell him, you know? I left him a note…I couldn't bear the look on his face…"

"I understand," Erik cut in sharply, baring his teeth as his anger was provoked. "You just couldn't break a man's heart, could you?" he said cruelly, watching her face fall and tears spring into her eyes. But what surprised him, however, that she didn't cry. She merely blinked, and shook her head.

"Never again," she whispered, then took a step closer towards him. "I will never make that mistake again,"

And very, very tentatively, she placed a soft kiss to his lips.

--

She was surprised at her own boldness. Only once had she ever been able to do something like this with Erik, and it was nothing like her present situation.

She'd kissed Erik to save Raoul's life. She'd kissed him because she'd had to. She'd kissed him because she hated him, admired him, loved him in a sense, yet wanted to be away from him all the same. She'd gone away with Raoul that day and tried to forget everything about him, especially his kiss. She didn't want to admit that she'd enjoyed his kiss, that he was a better kisser than Raoul, that she wanted to kiss him again, that….she just wanted to forget. He had also, and he'd succeeded. But this….was different!

The next time, he'd kissed her because he'd hated her, or rather, had claimed to, and she had responded because she had also claimed to hate him. But, of course, you can claim something, and that doesn't make it true. And that could not have been further from the truth…

She kissed him because she loved him. She would stay with him, she would do anything he asked of her, because she loved him, needed him, wanted him. She really, really did.

Erik was frozen. His lips did not move, nor did his arms or head. Slowly, however, he began to kiss her, placing his hand in her curls.

They broke away as quickly as it began. Christine searched his eyes for something, anything that could show her how he felt. He was shocked…but Christine quit searching his eyes when he kissed her again, this time much more passionate. Christine couldn't help but gasp as he kissed her again.

Christine tried to stifle a yawn, but found she couldn't. Erik broke away from her, yet he wore the biggest smile Christine had ever seen on his lips.

"You need your sleep, _mon ange,_" he said, taking her hand and leading her to her bedroom. She tried to protest, but all words were lost in another yawn.

"Goodnight, Erik," she smiled. He placed a small kiss on her forehead.

"Goodnight," he replied as she shut the door.

Erik made his way to his own bedroom. His bed, his coffin, his tomb…he no longer needed it. Not now that he was loved. He climbed in, knowing it would be the final time. He no longer prayed for death.

**I'm sorry. I told you the first event would happen in this chapter, but it didn't…I'm sorry. Next chapter, I promise!**

**Also, I used a small bit of French in this chapter…please forgive me if I'm wrong!**

**Son Kat**


	12. A Simple D Minor

**Forget Me Not: Chapter 12**

**'Tis me again! Thank you for all your lovely reviews, it really makes my day I've decided to rush out this next chapter, as I have some ideas in this head of mine which, like everything else in this head of mine, are jumbled and need to be put on paper. Or Microsoft Word.**

**I hate to say this, but I have to tell you what's going to happen in this chapter, as it might make people mad if I don't this will be the chapter that is T rated, as there is some EC…stuff in it. It's nothing graphic, I swear it's not, but just so your aware.**

**I do not own The Phantom of the Opera. Yet.**

When Erik awoke, the doubts he had been expecting flooded his mind. He hadn't slept well, he was awoken by dreams of Christine kissing him, them throwing him to the ground and running to the Victome…

He walked out of his bedroom, sleepy, but maintaining grace. He stared at the closed door where she slept, and he couldn't help but wonder what she was dreaming about. Good things, perhaps? He shook his head, a small smile on his face. Most likely not- he doubted she meant anything she'd said.

And yet, she had kissed him…

He sat down at the organ, and lightly placed his fingers on the keys. The one cure to his tormented nights was his music…

--

Christine awoke, a small smile on her face. At the sound of Erik's beautiful music, however, she sank back down lazily into her pillows and allowed it to fill her senses. Her euphoria was interrupted, however, by a sour note and Erik's voice, cursing loudly. She couldn't help but smile as she extracted herself from the bedspread and began to remake her bed. She stared at her rumpled gown- Erik had destroyed all of her gowns, and she had brought none of her own, forcing her to sleep in less than modest attire. She began to dress, then opened the door softly.

He sat at his organ, his back turned away from her. He didn't notice her, or if he did, he chose to say nothing. She tried to be soundless as she walked towards him. He continued to play the wrong note, and shi shoulders continued to tense. She softly placed a hand on one, and he turned to face her.

"I know how I want it to sound, but I can not seem to make it sound that way!" he cried, his voice frustrated.

"Good morning to you, too," she grinned, kissing his cheek. He spun around to his music, and Christine simply sat down on a chair near him. A thought occurred to her, suddenly, making her heart beat wildly.

"Erik?"

"Hmm?"

"What time is it?"

Erik looked around, as if he was looking for a clock. Finally, he said, "No idea."

Christine's heart beat faster. Raoul would be waking up. He'd find her letter. He'd go looking for her, and yet, he wouldn't find her…would he?

She shook the thought from her mind and once again became lost in Erik's music.

--

_Dear Raoul,_

_I'm sorry. But I can't do this any longer. Please know, even though I don't love you enough to be your wife, I love you very much as a friend. I will always think of you as my brother, my old playmate. Forgive me._

_Love always,_

_Christine_

_Your Little Lotte_

Raoul re-read the note several times, not sure whether the note he was reading was real. It looked like Christine's hand-writing, sure- but she would never leave him! Would she?

He tried to figure out where she could have gone. He still didn't quite believe she was serious, didn't really believe that she had left. Where did she go?

Erik.

The name rang into his head, and he shook it wildly. No. She would NOT do that. How could she betray his trust like that? No, it couldn't be true.

And yet, it might be…

Raoul re-read the letter again, trying to find some hidden clue as to where she was. He came up empty, and he dropped the letter in anguish. She'd most likely gone to the monster, there was hardly a doubt…even after their marriage, Raoul was never really sure that they'd stopped corresponding…and that was the reason he was so reluctant to go away on business.

There was only one person he could think of who would give him answers.

--

Madeline Giry and her daughter, Meg, resided in a small house in France, near the ruins of the Opera Populaire. The Madame had become the ballet mistress for another local, but vastly smaller, opera house, and Meg had become a dancer there. Their income was severely reduced, but the two of them managed all the same.

The Victome stared at the tiny house. It really did pale in comparison to his own, but he went up the dirty cobblestone pathway all the same. He hesitated before knocking on the door- did he know what to say? He nodded, then knocked. The short Meg Giry answered, eyes wide.

"Victome…" she bowed clumsily, unsure of how to treat him. Raoul just smiled and waved his hand.

"Miss Giry, there is no need for such formality…tell me, is your mother in?"

Meg nodded.

"Maman, the Victome…"

Madeline ran as fast as her cane would allow to the door. She, as well, bowed, her long braid nearly touching the ground. She quickly stepped back and allowed him entrance.

"Madame…" he said, once she had put on the tea and seated him comfortably. "Christine…" he paused, biting his lower lip. "Is gone…"

Madeline's eyes widened, then closed as she rested her head in her hands. Meg stared at him.

"She's gone?" she cried, forgetting she was in the presence of a noble. She quickly realized this, and averted her eyes, mumbling apologies.

"Madame…I believe she is with…" Raoul swallowed, forcing himself to use his real name. "Erik…"

"I see," was Madeline's only response.

"Madame Giry, if you have anything at all…if you can tell me anything at all…."

Madame Giry looked up. The man before her, this noble man, was pleading with her, only wanting the return of his wife…

She should have known something like this was bound to happen. She knew they were in love…she knew Christine was unhappy at home, and she did nothing…She felt a pang of guilt as she realized she actually _encouraged _her to go to him…in a sense, she had broken up their marriage! Madeline sighed.

She had to be loyal to Erik. As bad as she felt, she was Erik's one friend…

"I'm sorry, monsieur. I know nothing."

--

Erik's fist pounded onto the keys, making an awful sound. His beautiful tenor let loose a string of obscenities, at which Christine cringed.

"Why can't I get this bloody piece RIGHT?" he screamed, throwing the notes he had off the stand. Christine sighed as she stared at his back. Hours had passed, and he had barely said a word to her. He had barely spoken at all, unless it was to curse his piece to "bloody hell!".

Unsure of what to do, she stood up and placed a hand on his back.

"Maybe you need to leave it alone for a few hours…"

"Not until I get it right," he said through clenched teeth. She sighed and removed her hand, sitting back down. It was an awfully selfish thing to think, she knew, but…she simply wished he would pay her a bit more attention. She knew that music was probably his number one priority, but she couldn't help but wish that it was she he devoted all his time to…

"Damn it!" Erik bellowed, interrupting her thoughts.

"Is there any way at all I can help you?" she asked, hoping he remembered that she was actually there.

Erik sighed, then shook his head. "Not unless you, my dear, know how to make this sound fluid…"

"Well, may I see?" Christine asked. Truth be told, she would likely have no idea how to make Erik's music right, but she had to at least try…

She sat down beside him on the bench, peering at his work. Erik sighed and leaned back, his long fingers on the back of the bench.

"I don't…" Christine started, and Erik sighed. Christine read it over again, trying to be of some use to him. Having really no idea, she tried her best. "Try changing the C minor to a D minor, Erik…" she saw him give her a skeptical look. "Maybe…"

"Alright, then," he played the piece, substituting the C minor for a D minor. To his surprise, and to hers, the piece finally sounded the way he wanted. He stared at her in disbelief.

"I suppose that was your problem," she said, a small smile forming on her lips. She saw that he was also smiling, a rare occurrence with Erik.

"You've been well taught," he said, reading the notes over again and changing the C to a D.

"I have a wonderful teacher," she grinned. She caught his eyes for just a moment, and they glowed with pride.

He then stood up, stretching his tense muscles.

"Thank you for your help," he said simply, picking up his notebook. She stood up and followed him.

"Erik," she started, unsure of what she was going to say. The tall man turned around to face her. "I was just…you haven't really…mentioned last night at all, and-"

"Nor have you," Erik replied curtly.

"Well, no, but…I was waiting for you to say something-"

"As was I, of you," he said simply. Christine bit her lip.

"Well, the fact is…" she sighed, furrowing her brow. This was harder than she thought! "I meant every word,"

Erik was silent. Christine began to grow uncomfortable again, and she, for the hundredth time since she'd met him, felt as though he had the ability to read her thoughts.

Unfortunately, had no such ability, and as he watched her, he struggled to think of what might be going on in that head of hers. Was it a trick? A plot, a ploy? Or was it because she felt sympathetic towards him, wanting to make him feel better. Or, was it -dare he say- the truth?

Oh, Erik wanted so to believe the latter. He wanted so for the latter to be true. He studied her face carefully. Slightly pink cheeked, a fingerin her hair, teasing a curl, eyes to the ground.

"I love you," she whispered, and Erik's heart nearly stopped.

He willed himself to believe her. She looked up at him, a smile on her face.

"Do you love me?" she asked, and the innocence of her words almost broke his heart. Of course he did! He could never, ever feel anything different for her…no matter how hard he may try…

"Yes," he replied finally, his voice broken with emotion. Christine stared at him, her eyes wide, happy…happy? Happy that he loved her?

"Then, Erik," she whispered, coming near him. "I suppose that things are alright…"

"For now," Erik put in, a small smile gracing his full lips.

"For now," she agreed, standing inches away from him.

She kissed him, and he knew it was the truth. Unable to stop himself, he lifted her up, taking her to her bedroom.

For one night, all of the pain went away.

**Poor Erik and Christine. They really think their problems are over, don't they? Little do they know… This is not the end, folks, in fact, I foresee maybe even ten more chapters.**

**I'm really displeased with the way this chapter turned out. I didn't want to make it really smutty, as that would ruin the whole thing. But the way I did it, I just don't think is that good. Sorry if I disappointed anyone.**

**Next chapter will be better, promise!**


	13. Nadir Appears

**Forget Me Not: Chapter 13**

**Sorry for the wait. I hope it's worth it.**

**I do not own the Phantom of the Opera. Shut up, Raoul, and no one will realize I've stolen you. That's a good Victome.**

**Oh, and our dear Nadir makes his first appearance in this chapter. I just finished the Kay book, so hopefully I have his personality down. I'll do my best.**

**Side note: For Erik's lair, I've combined Leroux and ALW versions. I don't particularly like his hole in the wall ALW home, but I started the story before I finished Leroux and I'm too lazy to go back now XP So it's basically the hole, but Christine's room is the Louis Phillipe room, and it does have a door. I do like the black veil around the bed, so that stays. Also, Erik has his own room with a door and a coffin. I realize this makes no difference whatsoever, but I just thought I'd put that in. **

**PS AGAIN: This has nothing to do with the story. But I found a bit of lyrics that seemed to fit Erik perfectly:**

**I only wished to become something beautiful**

**Through my music, through my silent devotion**

**-Nightwish, Oceansoul**

**I know that was random. I just felt the need to put that in. Okay. On with the story.**

Christine lay in his arms, her eyes wide open, her mind a blank. Only one thing registered in her mind, only one awful thing.

_I've done something bad…_

He ran a hand through her hair, his heart pounding wildly against her ear. Every time his heart beat, it seemed to add to her guilt. Once she was able to think clearly, she would hate herself, hate him…

He took advantage of her. Yes, it was his fault! He took advantage of her, that awful man! It was his fault, all his fault!

No…no…it wasn't…she'd begged for it, encouraged him…he'd wanted to stop, she'd pleaded for more…

She couldn't deal with this. She had to fall asleep, where the memories couldn't hurt her…and she had to get out of this embrace! But how would she do it without hurting him?

She shut her eyes and allowed her breathing to deepen. After a few moments, she rolled over on her back, praying her little act would convince him. It did. Too well, in fact. He rolled over with her, kissing her brow lightly. She suppressed a groan. If she rolled over anymore, they'd both fall off the bed. He'd won. She sighed, allowing them to stay in each other's arms.

This was so wrong.

Erik, however, seemed to have other things in mind. He shook his head, then climbed out of bed. Christine hadn't noticed she was holding her breath, and let it out softly. Those who slept did not hold their breath.

Erik gave her a long look, then began to dress. He picked up yesterday's garments, putting away her gown, corset, and other garments lovingly. He walked out, leaving one last glance at his 'sleeping' angel.

She sat up. Was he leaving her? For his music, no doubt. She tried to see through the thick dark veil, as she heard no music. She did however, hear his footsteps coming back, and she plopped back down immediately, closing her eyes. She heard footsteps, moving to the table beside the bed. His mask, no doubt.

_"I can't…"_

_"Erik, if you trust me, you'll let me see your face. I will not kiss porcelain."_

Her eyes closed, she could only rely on two senses: sound and touch. She felt his leather-clad hand on her cheek, then felt him jerk it away, swearing at himself. She heard his footsteps walking away, a long sigh, then the gentle click of the door closing behind him.

She got out of bed quickly, patting down her hair. She placed a hand on the door knob, then stopped herself. She really should dress…

Once she'd done that, she tried to open the door. No luck. No…he wouldn't…she tried the other way. It wouldn't budge. No. He'd locked her in!

She sat down on the bed, suddenly feeling very dizzy. No way out. Alone. Alone with the guilt…

She could think clearly now, and the truth of the matter began to dawn on her. She was an adulteress. In all rights, she was still bound to Raoul…a note did note cut the twine, she was still tied to him in law, and in mind. She didn't think of Erik, of the mixed signals she was giving him, no. She thought of Raoul, poor, sweet Raoul…who'd never lay a hand on her, never so much as raised his voice at her in anger…

Words began to consume her, dance around her mind as though they were part of a cruel opera condemning her to Hell…_Slut, Filthy, Whore, Wanton, Tramp…_

No! She did not belong down there! She did not!

She was drowning! She was drowning! She could not swim!

She vomited, her body shaking as unimaginable guilt poured over her like tidal waves, threatening to consume her.

_Raoul…!_

* * *

Erik stared at the door knob for only a moment. He so hated confining her, but there was simply too many things that could harm her if he left her alone. No, he couldn't let anything happen to her. Not now that she was his. And, besides, he wouldn't be gone long. She would most likely stay asleep.

He poled the boat across the lake, watching the ripples but refusing to concentrate on them. No, he had much more important things on his mind. He could see the figure on the other side, gradually growing larger as he neared his destination. The figure stood close to the shore, a bundle in his arms. Erik climbed out of the gondola, approaching the man with a small grin on his face.

"Nadir," he took the bundle from the man's arms.

"I've brought you the food, and the gowns," the man indicated each object with his index finger, and Erik could hear the disapproval on his voice. "All in her measurements."

"My thanks, Nadir," he replied, not meeting the man's eyes. He could feel the strange look Nadir gave him, and immediately felt as though he were under an incredibly bright light.

"You're hiding something," Nadir said finally. It wasn't a question.

"No," Erik frowned, preparing to leave. "I am not!"

"Yes, you are, Erik," He grinned, almost triumphantly at the fact he'd made the masked man as uncomfortable as he so clearly was. "I've known you long enough to know when you are hiding something important."

"Even if I am hiding something, which I am not, why would I tell you?" Erik cried, shaking off the discomfort and regaining control. "You have no business in my personal life, Nadir!"

He turned his back, putting the bundle into the boat.

"So you remember her?"

Erik froze, one foot in the boat.

"You asked for all the dresses in her size. My memory isn't gone completely."

Erik turned around to face him, a look of sheer rage on his face.

"If she has returned, _my friend_, it is not your place to say whether it is right or wrong!"

"Give it up, Erik," The look on Nadir's face was almost pitiful, and Erik's ire only grew. "Just tell me the truth and I will give you this," He reached into his cloak and pulled out a small packet. Erik stared at the small treasure, not blinking. He finally shook his head.

"You know I don't need that anymore. Don't tempt me,"

"I don't think this is what you think it is," Nadir commented, opening the packet and looking inside. "Is your memory gone, my friend? You gave me exact instructions last week on what to buy…tell me the truth and then you can tell me if it lives up to your expectations."

Nadir pulled out the content of the packet. Erik stared at it, his eyes wide behind his mask.

"I could kill you, you know," He eyed Nadir carefully. "But that would be terribly inconvenient. So I suppose I have no choice."

* * *

Raoul de Chagny paced the floor of the police station. No, no, women did not just disappear into thin air. She was with him. There was no other logical explanation.

But why would she go with him? How could she betray his trust like that? She promised him…she promised him…

_"You saved me in ways you can't even imagine…"_

She promised him…

_"I owe you my mind, body, soul, and heart…they are all yours…"_

And he couldn't STAND the thought of her promising herself to another man! Especially not _him…_

"I'm sorry, Monsieur, but no one saw your wife leaving last night," the chief of police said, a sympathetic tone in his voice. "I'm afraid we have no leads on her disappearance."

Raoul left the police station, his eyes threatening to tear. No, this wasn't over. He would find her. And he would bring her back, no matter how big the dragon was he had to slay. He had to.

**I was going to make this all one chapter, but I've decided to make a new chapter with the rest of the content. So evil -mwahacough-**


	14. Adulteress

**Forget Me Not: Chapter 14**

**I just uploaded chapter 13, so I might as well start 14 while the content is fresh in my mind.**

**I do not own Phantom of the Opera. Working on Plan B to steal Ayesha. Plan not going very well.**

**I've decided to make this an RM, by the way. Or at least Meg unrequited, where Meg loves Raoul but he doesn't feel that way. Just so you know, there will be evidence of that in this chapter.**

**Two updates in one day! I'm good.**

When Madeline Giry got to the shore of the underground lake, she felt that nothing could have prepared her for the sight before her.

Nadir Khan, a man she knew to be a friend of Erik's from his past, was pointing a finger at him, screaming about something or other, his face beet red. Erik was giving him a guilty, yet slightly amused stare. He turned his head at her.

"Madeline," he greeted, softly nodding.

"Monsieur Khan?" Madeline asked, hoping for an explanation.

"He…! He…!"

She gave him a look, fighting back a smile. He was over excited about something, and Erik himself seemed to be suppressing a laugh. Her smile disappeared, however, when Nadir was finally able to complete his sentence.

"He SLEPT with her!" he cried out, pointing an accusing finger at Erik. Madeline stopped smiling.

"You…what?"

"He slept with Mademoiselle Daae!" Nadir continued, as Madeline approached Erik.

"Madeline…" Erik began, shifting uncomfortably. He was cut off, however, by Madame Giry's hand slapping the unmasked side of his face.

"How could you?" Madeline cried, as Erik rubbed at his cheek.

"She's left her husband!" Erik protested, nearly spitting out the last word.

"Yes," She cried, placing her sore hand on her hip. "I'm quite aware! He came to me, begging me to tell him where she was!"

Erik stared at her, his eyes wide.

"You didn't say anything," his tone was low, cold.

"I didn't say anything," she assured him. "I didn't think you'd be helping her break her marriage vows!"

"She left him!"

"A note means nothing, Erik!" Madeline cried, her thick French accent rising above and overpowering his soft, almost angelic chords. She had never been able to beat him like this before. She rather liked it. "Adulteress is a title that will follow her to the grave! She won't be able to walk into a room without people whispering and staring!" Madeline placed a hand to her forehead. "My God, what have you done?"

"That's enough, Madeline," Erik cried, regaining power. "No one has to know. And she never has to go back!"

"Allah have mercy…" Nadir moaned.

"Oh, do be quiet, Nadir!" Erik snapped. "You two are blowing this completely out of proportion…it's not like I raped her! She came to me of her own will!"

Madeline and Nadir stared at him.

"You don't understand, she's a woman constantly in the public, she'll be the subject of everyone's gossip! Do you really want that life for her?"

Erik stared at the woman before him. If she was anyone else, she would have paid for her impertinence. But he had never killed a woman, and he didn't plan to. Especially not Madeline. He simply shook his head.

"What's done is done," he sighed, stepping towards the boat. "And no one needs to know."

"Don't you want her ring?" Nadir called after him. Erik reached into his cloak and pulled out the small packet.

"I got it while you were screaming. Honestly, Nadir, you must take better care of things you don't want to lose."

Nadir gaped at him, then checked his cloak. His purse was gone.

* * *

Madame Giry must have been lying, because there was nowhere else for Christine to go. Women do not vanish into thin air, that much was certain. She knew where she was, and she was going to tell him.

He walked up the same cobblestone path, the birds singing their morning song. He used to love the morning, waking up, listening to the birds, then getting to work. Morning meant a new day. But without Christine, he found his concentration wearing thin, and he couldn't focus on anything but bringing his wife home. He gave two sharp knocks, then stood, waiting. He was greeted by Meg Giry, who turned a bright red.

"Victome," she said, giving a small bow. Raoul forced a chuckle.

"Once again, Mademoiselle Giry, there is no need for such formalities…is your mother at home?"

"No, she…" Meg paused. "Went to see a friend." She finished finally. Raoul sighed.

"I see…"

"She won't be gone long!" Meg cried. "Would you like to come inside and wait?"

Meg placed a teacup in front of him, making sure to smile. He was so handsome…she could see why Christine was so in love with him…or at least, used to be.

"So," Meg said finally, trying to make conversation. "Why do you need to talk to maman? Is there anything that I can help you with?"

"Not unless you know where Monsieur Erik lives," Raoul replied, a look of sheer contempt on his face.

_"I will tell you where he lives, Meg, but only so you never go there!"_

_"I swear, maman, I won't!"_

No. She couldn't betray her friend! She couldn't. She'd made her choice. She was happy, wasn't she?

But he'd made her cry so miserably…Raoul would never make her cry like that…

She looked at the man before her. She wanted him to be happy, above all else.

"I'll take you there, monsieur."

* * *

She was drowning! There was no way out! She was going insane! She was going to die!

She couldn't bare the pain. She had to get it over with soon…

* * *

Erik unlocked the door, the giant bundle in his arms. His stomach churned as he took in his surroundings.

Vomit was on the floor, and near it, his Christine.

A bloody mark was on her forehead.

**And, that's called a chapter done in a rush. I think that took me…an hour, maybe? I don't know. Enjoy.**


	15. Corpse Bride

**Chapter 15: Corpse Bride (Couldn't resist )**

**I think I may have confused some people with the last chapters. Frankly, I wasn't proud of them. At all. So, basically, Christine was feeling guilty because she betrayed her LEGAL husband (and friend). Does she love Erik? We'll see. She definitely thought she did. So basically, she was going a bit insane, because she was cooped up in her room with horrible, horrible guilt filling her mind. That part was badly written, however. If you don't get it now, don't worry. In the words of our heroine, "You will understand in time!"**

**As for Meg, she was in a bad situation. Betray her friend to help the man she loves, or vice-versa. I'm going to try to explain a bit, because the way I did it was extremely badly done, and for that, I apologize. Meg doesn't think she was happy with Erik, because she'd seen her cry miserably because of him, and when you put together that with the things her mother had told her, she could only draw one conclusion: Erik's a monster (which he is NOT!) and Christine should be with Raoul, even though it hurts her. She was really just doing what she thought was right. I'm going to stop now, because the authors note is really long.**

**I do not own the Phantom of the Opera.**

**Also, a little note on morphine: Erik's past is Kay/ ALW based. I'm thinking he killed Javert, was rescued by Madame Giry, then the events of Kay took place. I know that sounds dumb, but I don't know what else to do…as for the morphine, his addiction was a big part of Kay, that stays, but I'm thinking it might not have gotten bad enough to kill him. So this story is Kay/ALW. And very bad.**

When she finally opened her eyes, she was greeted by Erik's face. She felt pressure on her forehead, and was vaguely aware of bandages wrapped around her forehead. He had moved her onto the couch, she noted, and he did not at all look happy.

"E…Erik…" she managed. There was a throbbing pain in her forehead.

"Well, thank God," he cried sarcastically. "I thought I'd lost you!"

"Erik…" She tried again. Her forehead pounded. Erik continued.

"Tell me, my love, how you came by such awful injuries?" The sarcasm was still evident in his voice, and she searched her mind her an answer.

_"I'm sorry, Raoul!"_

_She banged her head against the wall, tears streaming down her face._

_"I'm sorry…"_

_Blackness._

"I…" she struggled. "I don't… remember…" She prayed that he didn't know. He knew.

"Spare your lies, _dearest_, they tire me so!"

She sat up on her elbows, ignoring the searing pain in her head.

"When have I lied to you?"

Erik stared at her in disbelief.

"I'm not going to dignify that with an answer," he said, wide-eyed. "I do hope you haven't damaged your memory in your suicide attempt, as that would prove quite inconvenient for your husband when he comes down for you."

"Husband," she repeated. Her heart pounded faster as she remembered her sin. "He won't come…"

She prayed he wouldn't come! If he never came, she would never have to deal with the awful guilt, she could stay down there forever if she pleased, she'd never have to tell Raoul what she'd done…

Oh, God.

What if…

What if he'd impregnated her? What if he'd impregnated her, and Raoul took her back, and she gave birth, and Raoul knew it wasn't his, and…

The mere thought of it caused her to fall back upon the couch!

"No…" she moaned, allowing the imaginary situation to get ahead of her. She and her baby, on the streets with nowhere to go…

"What is it, Christine?" Erik's cold voice interrupted her thoughts just as Erik Jr. was stealing food from a cart. "Are you remembering your horrible adultery?" He sneered, then turned his back. She was sure she heard him say, "Just like the girl…would rather die than lie with me…"

"No," she struggled to get off the couch, stumbling as she stood. "That's not it at all…"

"Then what is it, _my dearest_? Thinking of your husband, what he'd think if he knew of your adultery?"

How was he always able to read her mind? Was she that predictable?

"He wouldn't be happy, Erik…"_ Don't make him angrier…_

"Of course he wouldn't…and you always did put his feelings before anyone else's…"

She found her voice before the emotional abuse could continue.

"You know that's not true, Erik!" she cried. He spun around. "I came back to you, did I not?"

"If I remember correctly, it was purely for the fact that you had nowhere to stay!"

"Correct!" she narrowed her eyes, approaching him. "I had no where to stay because I had left my husband!"

"And now you regret it!"

"I did not say that! Don't you dare put words in my mouth!"  
"What will you do, Christine?" he asked, a small glint in his eyes. "Ask your old theater friends to destroy my home? I stopped them once, Christine, and I am perfectly capable of stopping them again."

She stopped. There had been a mob, that night…she vaguely recalled screaming…

_"The phantom of the opera must be found! Track down this demon!"_

"You killed them," she whispered, sick realization washing over her. "You killed them, didn't you?"

"Christine, you always expect the worst of me…" he replied in a much too casual tone of voice. "Do you honestly think I would kill all those innocents?"

"You killed Joseph Buquet!" she cried, before she could stop herself. Erik froze.

"You tread on dangerous ground, de Chagny. Watch your step."

"And the gypsy man! You killed him as well!"

Erik stared at her, a puzzled expression in his eyes.

"How did you-"

"Madame Giry told Raoul," she answered immediately.

"I will have to have a small chat with Madame Giry," he replied, the same glint in his eyes. "In any case, Javert was by no means innocent."

Erik shuddered. Christine did not break her glare. He sighed.

"The Opera Ghost lives! If you so much as set a foot down here in the future, you will never see the light of day again!" His voice came from all directions, and Christine immediately understood what had happened to her at the lake.

"You're a ventriloquist," It was not a question. "I'm learning many new things about you today, Erik. I've learned that you are just as jealous as you were, and you still think little of yourself, and-"

"Stop right there," Erik said, his eyes narrowing behind the mask. "I do believe I see the man of your dreams now!"

She turned her head, only to see Raoul punting the boat across the lake.

"I knew it," he cried, jumping out of the boat, drawing his sword. "I knew you'd taken her! You probably forged the note as well, you fiend! Hand her over, or prepare to fight!"

He took a few steps toward him, his breathing jagged. "This time, phantom, I will not take pity on you, not for the world!"

Erik stared at him, not blinking.

Then, quite rudely, he began to laugh.

"Prepare…to…" he laughed harder, tears streaming down his face and mask. This only fueled the young Victome's anger.

"I said hand her over, demon!" he cried, grabbing Christine's arm. Erik straightened, wiping his uncovered eye, chuckling slightly.

"Christine, I do believe you've made your decision, have you not?" he asked, blinking a few times, his voice shaky.

She stared at the two men, that familiar nausea taking over. Without looking at Erik, she took Raoul's outstretched hand. Raoul dropped her arm and drew his sword.

"If you don't want me here," she finally met his eyes. "I will leave of my own will. It will save you some time."

Erik stared at her, his eyes wide.

"When have I ever-"

"Silence, Phantom!" Raoul cried. He and Christine were already half-way to the boat. "She's made her decision!"

Erik found himself quite incapable of moving as he watched the two leave. Christine never took her eyes of him, and he swore he could see tears in the chocolate orbs.

And yet, he did not feel the usual depression he felt whenever Christine left him. No, in fact, he felt, almost…hopeful.

_She'll be back._

**Enjoy! More soon!**


	16. Authors Note

Hello, readers,

I'm so sorry for making an authors note chapter. I do realize how tacky this is, and this will be deleted once the real chapter 16 is created.

A lot of you have probably noticed that this story has gone from bad to worse. I agree entirely. I thought I had an idea, and I messed it up. I'm sorry. The last few chapters have been my worst.

This story will be going on a break for awhile, so I can rewrite chapters 13-15. Please be patient with me, I don't know how long it will take.

Thank you all so much for staying with me this far. Don't give up on me yet, dear readers, because this story will be continued. But it's my best work on the site, so if no one likes it that's bad news for me. If that means taking a few months to get it right, then so be it.

See you sometime,

Kate


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